


In A Way That Feels Right To Me

by Eastmava



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dom Hux, Dom/sub, Domme Hux, F/F, Fem!Hux, Gender Changes, Hux is a librarian, Kylo is a university student, Light Bondage, More tags to be added, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Sub Kylo, fem!Kylo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 68,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eastmava/pseuds/Eastmava
Summary: -“Sweet girl,” Hux croons, smearing her thumb against Kylo’s mouth and this time, this time, she does let her taste. “You were good. So good for me.” She pulls her thumb back, and Kylo’s lips smack together, wet with spit, as Hux pulls the elastic out of her ponytail, hair tumbling loose, before she sinks her hand into the thick curls. Kylo nuzzles into the touch, feels herself melt against the warm hand. “And I reward good behavior.” Kylo whines, and she feels herself blush, a near constant state around Hux, but for once she doesn’t duck to try and hide it. Let Hux see, let her see what she does to her. “But you were bad, and for that I have to punish you first.”-Kylo is a university student, newly transferred to FO University, just trying to complete her studies. Hux is the gorgeous librarian she's instantly smitten with who knows just what Kylo needs, even if Kylo doesn't know herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all youdidnotseeme's fault. I came into this fandom to write soft Kylux. But she posted beautiful drawings on her Tumblr of fem!Kylux. And everytime I saw the tag 'space lesbians' my brain tried to read it as 'space librarians.' When I told her this she was a terrible enabler and encouraged me to write about stern librarian Hux and industrious but misbehaving student Kylo. This is the result.
> 
> Make sure to go check out YDNSM's beautiful fem!Kylux art on her tumblr 
> 
> http://youdidnotseeme.tumblr.com/image/159976394231
> 
> This work is un beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. If you see any I'd appreciate you letting me know.

“Student ID?” The red haired woman asks, sounding bored as she efficiently taps away at her computer, making note of the books Kylo has stacked on the counter.

 

“Oh, uh, yes,” Kylo says, digging through pockets for the little plastic badge they gave her. “Sorry,” she says, opening her bag. “I’m new here. Just transferred,” she adds hurriedly, because she doesn’t want the beautiful woman standing before her to think she’s some young freshman. “I’m a senior, and the staff at Alderaan University- that’s where I went, thankfully all my credits transferred, that would suck, right?- the library staff, they all just knew me after a while,” she rambles, and why did she buy a bag with so many pockets? What exactly did she expect to be carrying, why did she do this to herself?

 

“Do you have your ID or not?” The woman asks, an edge of irritating coloring her words.

 

“Yes!” Kylo exclaims, triumphant, finding it in the very bottom of the bag, and then winces when the woman shoots her a sharp look, her green eyes flashing. “Sorry,” she whispers, quieter, as she hands the card over.

 

“Kylo Ren?” She confirms, studying the picture and then Kylo herself. She feels a blush crawl up her cheeks.

 

“Yes?”

 

“All the books are due back a week from today, except for the Tarkin autobiography, that’s due by close tomorrow.” The woman looks up. “Any questions?”

 

“No!” Kylo yelps, startled out of staring at the woman’s knife point sharp flick of eyeliner and the way it enhances the soft almond shape of her striking eyes. “No, no questions. Sorry.” She looks at the toes of her worn shoes and takes a deep breath. “Thank you, Miss-?” she trails off with what she hopes is a charming smile.

 

“You’re welcome,” the woman says flatly before she turns and strides off, the sway of her hips and long legs accentuated by the tailored pinstripe trousers, the staccato click of her heels on the floor echoing after her.

 

Kylo shakes herself and gathers the pile of books before starting the slow trudge back to her tiny apartment.

 

___

 

She’s almost out the door the next morning when she remembers the book is due back today and that her already stretched thin budget really can't afford late fees just because she was forgetful. Picking up the book, opened beside her computer, makes her think of the gorgeous redhead at the library. She stops and eyes herself in the mirror, looks at her oversized tunic and leggings that were black before being through the washing machine so many times.

 

Kylo tells herself she’s being ridiculous even as she changes, swaps out her boots for a pair of flats and ditches the leggings for a skirt, tucking the the shirt in. She eyes herself in the mirror, nods at her reflection. There’s no hiding the generous swell of her hips, the jiggle of her thighs, but her waist looks trim and the loose shirt gives the illusion that her chest is heavier than her modest B-cups.

 

She has to run to catch her bus and is nearly late for her first class of the day.

 

As she stands on the steps of the library Kylo digs through her bag until she finds a long forgotten tube of lipgloss, squints at the tiny screen of her phone as she applies a layer, makes kissy-faces at the camera until a passing group of students give her strange looks.

 

The hot redhead isn’t at the circulation desk when she approaches. Instead there’s a mousy looking man in a short-sleeved button down shirt and an ugly, clashing tie. She scowls at him when his gaze snags on the back-and-forth of her wide hips as she walks and when she slams the book down on the counter his eyes jerk up to look at her.

 

“I need to return this,” she tells him, still frowning.

 

“Yes, yes, of course,” he rambles, not looking at her now that he knows he’s been caught staring. “Can I have your-”

 

“And I need access to the personal journals of Mon Mothma the library has,” she interrupts.

 

“Of course,” he says, his shoulders hunched in a protective cower. “Those are, well, they can’t be checked out. They have to remain-”

 

“I know,” she growls. “I just need access to them. If you can’t do that then do your damn job and find me someone who can before I reach across this desk and choke you!”

 

“Please refrain from threatening my staff,” a voice cuts in, a sharp clipped accent Kylo thinks she’d recognize if it were another century before she heard it again. The woman walks over, the door to her office closing quietly behind her. She lays a hand on the shoulder of the weasel who was eyeing Kylo. “Mitaka, go take a break. I can handle it from here.” Mitaka nods gratefully and scurries off with a final worried glance over his shoulder.

 

Kylo feels herself flushing, feels the heat of it crawl down her chest, as the woman finishes checking the book in and takes it over to a cart to be reshelved. “Now, I understand you need to see one of the rare books?” She asks primly, none of the steel she used to scold Kylo in her voice but there’s still a hardened threat in her gaze. Kylo swallows, nods. “Very well. Let me fetch my keys.”

 

She walks to her office and Kylo can’t help but watch her ass, small and pert in grey wool, even as she scolds herself. She doesn’t really feel bad for making the threat, only regrets being caught.

 

The woman doesn’t say anything as she walks around the desk, keys jingling in her hands. Kylo follows behind her and when they reach a set of stairs she wonders what she did to earn the delight of watching that cute butt sashay up the stairs directly in front of her face. They wind through the library until they come to a closed door. The woman opens it and flicks on the lights before stepping inside.

 

“Mon Mothma’s journals, correct?”

 

“Yeah,” she breathes out, feeling a little light-headed from the coil of heat in her belly after watching that nice ass for an entire flight of stairs. “Yes, from her time as a senator.”

 

The woman picks a pair of white gloves off a shelf and pulls them on, flexing her fingers in the tight fitting fabric before she walks unerringly to a shelf. “Do you know what year?”

 

“When she was Chancellor.” The woman hums and Kylo feels lightheaded as she watches those long fingers stroke lovingly over the spines of a mis-matched set of books before gently pulling one out. She lays it softly on a stand, frowns when a plume of dust puffs up as she opens it.

 

Kylo steps close, fingers clenched tight around the strap of her bag and bends to study the spidery, faded writing. She reads over the page, not opened to the date she needs but still enchanting nonetheless. When she reaches the end she mindlessly reaches to turn the page. She yanks back when her hand is slapped away with a sharp crack.

 

“Careful,” the woman hisses. “The parchment this is written on is older than you. Touching it could damage it irreparably.”

 

Her hand smarts and a pulse of blood swells her labia.

 

“Sorry,” she offers meekly and gives a small smile the woman doesn’t return. “Could you turn the page?” The woman just stares. “Please?” A huff of breath but those fine fingers carefully lift a page and turn it. “Actually, I’m looking for an entry which should be right before she broke off to go-”

 

“Yes, of course. That’ll be toward the end.” Kylo watches as she pages through the brittle book, treating each page with care. She stands respectfully, quietly aside, catching a whiff of faded perfume when the woman reaches up to brush a lock of short copper hair out of her face with the back of her hand, too busy watching the woman in front of her to do more that occasionally glance at the passing pages.

 

It’s when Kylo glances at a page and sees _Darth Vader_ that she unthinkingly reaches out to try and stop the next page from being lifted.

 

“Wait, that’s-” and her hand, reaching out, is caught in a tight grip, fingers flexing around her wrist with a strength she wouldn’t have expected.

 

“I warned you,” the woman says. “Be careful.” Kylo tugs to break the hold and feels the grip flex before the woman finally releases her, a shiver skittering down her spine at the thought of those strong hands holding her in place. “If you are in my library you will respect these books.”

 

“Or what, you’ll spank me?” The words are out before she can think, her usual habit of saying the worst thing possible one she never bothered to unlearn, and until this moment she’s never regretted it, but as soon as she says them her mouth goes dry, her throat clicking as she tries to swallow.

 

For the first time she sees the woman smile, a tiny twist of her lips and all Kylo can think of is the look on her childhood cat ArTo before he went chasing after a fat mouse.

 

“Miss Ren, isn’t it?” The woman asks, as she strokes a finger down the pages of the book.

 

She tries to speak, can’t, only lets out a little squeak before she gives up and nods. That dangerous smile grows.

 

“Miss Ren, I have dedicated my life to books,” she says calmly as she closes the journal and walks it over to its shelf. “I have read love poetry written by history’s finest. I have studied the works of famous scholars and meticulously restored first editions of some of the greatest stories ever put to the page,” and there’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a lightness that Kylo only realizes was there when she suddenly drops it. “Knowing that, did you really expect such a terrible pick-up line to work on me?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kylo whispers dryly, her tongue gummy and sticking to her mouth as he face flames with a blush.

 

“Hmm?” She hums, stepping close. “I didn’t quite catch that,” and Kylo gasps when a still-gloved hand tilts her face back up to meet stern green eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she says again, barely a whisper, the beat of her pulse pounding in her ears.

 

“Good girl, you can learn.” The woman drops her hand. “Run along now,” and she turns and flees, takes the stairs two at a time even as her knees tremble with desire. She ducks into a bathroom, makes sure the stall is locked tight before lifting her skirt and cupping her hand over the throbbing mound of her pussy, unsurprised that it comes away wet.

 

___

 

She avoids the library for the next few days, studying in her run-down apartment, sits on her too-small bed with the frame that squeaks whenever she dares to shift. She tells herself she concentrates better without other people around although it’s untrue. Every dooring slamming down the hallway, every drift of muffled voices or groaning noise of the old building settling startles her, breaks her concentration, but the lie is better the admitting the truth- that’s she’s embarrassed, and whenever she thinks of it, that flood of humiliation, she squirms in her seat.

 

She’s woken up every morning, panties tacky and damp, clinging, tensing and relaxing her thighs rhythmically, chasing the orgasm she was denied in her dreams with thoughts of bright copper hair buried between her legs and a stern voice echoing in her ear, pushed the sheets aside and slipped her hand past the elastic waist of her underwear, grinding down on the heel of her hand while her fingers slip inside her wet opening until her muscles tense and she screams her pleasure into her flattened pillow.

 

On Sunday she logs onto First Order University’s website and clicks over to the faculty page, scrolls past the opening paragraphs spent bragging about the prestigious background of the Associate Professors, the high standard their Assistant Professors are held to, pages down, looking for a bright splash of hair to stand out against all the grey and wrinkles that seem to dominate the teaching staff at FOU.

 

She only has to go about halfway down the page before she finds it- _A. Hux_. There’s a short paragraph she skims, just a few brief words about her Master’s, her background in handling and restoring rare books, her status as president of the Outer Rim Library Association.

 

And then Kylo studies the picture, that sharply angled bob, pin-straight and smooth except for one traitorous part that curls, right at the nape of her ivory neck. The collar of her shirt is flat and starched, obviously well made even in the small picture, her eyes still a sharp sea-green. Kylo’s embarrassed by the little whimper she lets out even though there’s no one around to hear it.

 

She’s restless when she goes to bed that night, kicks free of her covers and strips off the oversized tee she sleeps in, her sheets sticking to her sweaty skin despite the autumn chill that slips into her draughty apartment. Her skin feels tight, pulled too taut over her bones, and every time she closes her eyes, determined to chase down sleep, she remembers a sharp voice scolding her and a tight hold on her wrist. She looks at the red numbers on her alarm clock that illuminate the stack of books sitting on her rickety desk, taunting her with the due date tomorrow.

 

Dawn is finally beginning to slip into the room, rose-gold and soft, when she pounds her pillow and buries her face into with a groan before giving up and dressing herself in running clothes. The shorts barely cover her ass and the straps off her sports bra cut into her shoulders, she knows she’ll have angry indentations for hours after, but she can’t afford a different one right now. Her shoes, at least, fit well, even if her socks still stink of sweat regardless of how many times she runs them through the wash.

 

She starts off at an easy pace, more a brisk walk than a jog, to loosen up stiff muscles. She’s ran sporadically for years in an attempt to lose the soft curves of her body, to harden it into something sharper. Her studies have softened any hardness there once was, and she grimaces at the way her thighs jiggle every time her feet pound the ground, runs until the ache in her legs and the burning in her lungs forces her to walk.

 

When she gets back she has just enough time to swipe the sweat off in a lukewarm shower and tie her hair up into a sloppy ponytail before shoving the books responsible for her sleepless night into her bag and hurries out to catch her bus.

 

Her legs burn with every step she takes to her classes and despite the generous cup of coffee she treats herself to she’s snappish and tired, crankier than usual and when the professor of her History of the Republic class announces that they need to read chapters two through four in the textbook she opted not to buy because she knew it was on permanent hold at the university library for students to use by next class she bumps into a fellow student when she stomps out of the lecture hall and doesn’t even apologize when he bounces into the wall.

 

She tells herself she walks slowly across campus because her legs hurt from her run, that the twisting knot in her stomach is from no breakfast and too much coffee. Each step up to the library doors seems a gargantuan effort, and she pauses with a hand on the door, takes a deep breath and reminds herself that she is not a coward, that she has done harder things than make polite small talk with an attractive woman she’s fantasized about ( _one of the most attractive women she’s ever met, who she’s already made a fool of herself in front of, who worked her into a fluster with a simple touch and a suggestive curl of her mouth)._

 

But Hux isn’t at the circulation desk, it’s the same man who was there last time, Mitaka, and as soon as he recognizes her he drops his gaze to the desk and squeaks a small “hello” at it. She can’t deny the sense of satisfaction she gets at his obvious nervousness.

 

“I need to return these, and I need to know where the copy of _A Brief History of the Senate_ is kept,” she grits as respectfully as she can so she doesn’t get in trouble with Hux again, even though the thought of Hux scolding her, Hux whispering in her ear what a naughty girl she is, makes her squeeze her legs together and flush with pleasure.

 

He points her to the permanently reserved books and she picks up the heavy tome, carries it with her to a table tucked in the stacks, as far from everyone as she can reasonable expect to get, and settles in with a notebook and her favorite purple pen to take notes with.

 

She’s ten pages into the dense text, blinking her eyes, strained from the tiny print, and she doesn’t even realize she’s fingering the corner of the pages, curling and uncurling, shuffling through them with her thumb, until a warm hand lands on hers, the nails perfectly manicured, and a voices whispers in her ear, a damp breath that makes her shiver, “Careful, Miss Ren. I’ve told you I expect you to be careful with the books in my library.”

 

Kylo’s breath stutters out and she’s startled out of her slouch, her back colliding with the slim body bent over her. “Sorry!” She gasps, high and breathless. “I’m sorry.” A low hum, she shudders as it vibrates through where she’s still pressed to the warm body behind her. Hux steps around her, directly to the side, still so close Kylo can catch the waft of her perfume, flowery but carried on a sharp wave of citrus, intoxicating this close, and she feels dizzy.

 

“Can you behave, Miss Ren?” Hux asks, cocking her hip to prop herself against the table. This close Kylo can see the smooth wool of her beige trousers, the way they skim perfectly over the curve of her hip, just tight enough to give the impression of the soft slope beneath without clinging. She wants to reach out, to touch, greedy with the desire to press her fingers all over this perfectly tailored beauty, but Hux’s hand keeps hers firmly pressed to the table. “Well?” She asks, with a quirk of her groomed eyebrow.

 

“Yes,” she squeaks, mouth dry and hoarse. She looks away, down at the pages of her book, the words swimming in her vision as a blush rises on her cheeks. “I’ll behave.”

 

Hux leans down, the swing of her hair just grazing the sensitive flesh of collarbone exposed by Kylo’s shirt, her nose brushing the unruly tangle of Kylo’s ponytail. “And?” She prompts, the word soft and sweet, barely whispered, like the gentle praise of a lover, but her fingers curl and her nails bite into the back of Kylo’s hand and later she’ll have four perfect half-moons emblazoned on the back. The sharp pricks of pain ground her, cuts through the dizzying haze of pleasure that clouds her mind in the same way salt brings out the sweetness of caramel, the perfect contrast, and her breath quickens, short little sips of air that barely fill her lungs.

 

She has to close her eyes, against the pain, against the throb that’s settles between the vee of her legs, against the rising humiliation as she realizes anyone could wander by and see her flushed and squirming just from this. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ll behave, ma’am.”

 

The barest brush of lips against her ear as a finger comes up to brush along her jaw. “Good girl,” Hux croons, and turns Kylo to face her. “You want to be such a good girl for me, don’t you?” She nods, frantically, ponytail bobbing behind her and Hux chuckles, a sound as warm and soothing as a hot cup of tea. Hux taps a finger against her lips, she parts them, but Hux pulls her hand away before she can dart her tongue out to catch a taste. “Now, now,” Hux scolds, “behave,” but there’s a smile on her face as she says it.

 

She pats Kylo’s hand twice before she turns and strides off, and Kylo stares after her, watches the sway of her pert ass, the long line of legs accentuated by the stilettos she doesn’t falter in, the straight line of Hux’s back and the way the afternoon sun filtering through the windows bounces off her red hair like the facets of a ruby.

 

She tries to focus on the text, but her tongue keeps swiping along her lip to try and catch any lingering trace of salt, every time she shifts she swears the phantom scent of Hux’s perfume chases her, just enough to make her look up to see if the woman is watching her. She finds herself restless, begins to fidget with the book again, worries the corner of in before she catches herself.

 

She presses both palms flat on the table, takes a deep breath and remembers how startlingly right it felt to give so easily into Hux’s demand to behave, shivers with the memory of the brush of lips against the shell of her ear. “I’ll behave,” she whispers, even though Hux isn’t there to hear, and feels something settle in her, feels whatever restless thing that was pressing against her ribs calm with the reminder that she’s being good for Hux.

 

She holds her pen tight in her right hand and sits on her left. The firm press of weight on her hand, the physical reminder that she wants to be good, _will be good_ , because if she is maybe Hux will touch her again, maybe rest her elegant fingers on Kylo’s lips again, but this time, if she’s good, if she behaves, maybe Hux will decide she deserves a reward and let her taste.

 

It’s the click-clacking of heels on the floor that alerts her Hux is back. Kylo blinks gummy eyes and looks at the page, shocked to see she’s several chapters ahead of the required reading and that the library is empty, the lights dimmed, so focused on being good that she just kept working with little thought to the space around her.

 

“My, my,” Hux says, crouching down beside her and running a hand down her arm until she reaches the wrist tucked tightly under Kylo’s thigh. “You were a _very_ good girl for me, weren’t you?”

 

Kylo turns her head, tilts into Hux’s orbit and parts her lips. She makes a noise of protest when she’s stopped by a hand to her shoulder. “Please,” she pleads. “I thought you said I was good. I tried to be good for you.” There’s a lump of shame clogging her throat at the confessions- she’s never been good for _anyone._ She spent her childhood throwing tantrums until her parents were exhausted enough to give in. She’s sat through more detentions than she can count for back talking teachers and picking fights. She’s sabotaged every relationship she’s ever been in, if the other person made a demand she did the opposite, just to prove she could.

 

Her entire personality is rooted in misbehaving. But Hux, with her sharp words and sharper glare, with her commands that are firm yet coaxing, Hux, whose first name she doesn’t know but who makes her tremble with desire more than anyone she’s ever met, Hux she wants to be good for. Wants to obey, all in the hopes Hux will grace her with a smile and a word of praise. It’s madness, this heat the burns through her when Hux is near, and she wants, she wants, but this she can’t just take. This, she has to earn.

 

“Sweet girl,” Hux croons, smearing her thumb against Kylo’s mouth and this time, this time, she does let her taste. “You were good. So good for me.” She pulls her thumb back, and Kylo’s lips smack together, wet with spit, as Hux pulls the elastic out of her ponytail, hair tumbling loose, before she sinks her hand into the thick curls. Kylo nuzzles into the touch, feels herself melt against the warm hand. “And I reward good behavior.” Kylo whines, and she feels herself blush, a near constant state around Hux, but for once she doesn’t duck to try and hide it. Let Hux see, let her see what she does to her. “But you were bad, and for that I have to punish you first.” Kylo yelps in surprise when Hux fists her hair, just tight enough to suggest pain, and pulls her forward. She doesn’t yank, just a slow, gentle tug, that Kylo leans forward to follow until she gracelessly tumbles out of her chair and lands sprawled on the floor, her palms smarting from catching her weight. She whimpers when Hux lets go.

 

Hux cups her hand under her jaw and lifts her face up until Kylo is staring into her sharp gaze. “I need you to listen,” Hux tells her, her voice stripped of the seductiveness it dripped just seconds ago. “If you tell me to stop, I stop. If it’s too much, you tell me. Do you understand?”

 

She nods, tries to lower her head but Hux’s hand keeps her chin held up. “Yes, ma’am, I understand.” The burn of humiliation she feels at being on her hands and knees, at all the resistance in her melting away under Hux’s watchful eyes, at the wetness even now making her panties damp, it’s worth it just for the tight, pleased smile Hux grants her.

 

“Good girl,” Hux praises and rises from her crouch, a smooth, graceful movement that flexes the muscles in her slim thighs. She pets Kylo’s hair for a minute and she can’t help the whimper that slips out. “Follow me.”

 

She moves to stand but is stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. “Did I tell you to stand?” She half expects her clothes to burn off her with the heat of embarrassment that floods her body as she slips back to her hands and knees.

 

“No ma’am. I’m sorry.”

 

Hux doesn’t say anything as she starts walking away. Kylo takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly and takes one moment to consider her options. She could stand, walk out of here, she’s sure Hux wouldn’t stop her. Of course she’ll need to use the library, but they can easily avoid each other, forget this ever happened, just write it off as an ill-conceived fling that never went anywhere, a brief break from reality as a result of long hours and too much stress before she came to her senses. Or she could follow, crawl after Hux and see what this beautiful librarian with her sharp features and sharper smiles, her soft hands and biting words, could do to her, give in to the pulsing ache of desire pounding in her very core.

 

Before she draws in her next breath she’s already moving forward, hands and knees scuffing on the floor as she awkwardly paws her way behind Hux.

 

Her palms ache and she’s certain her knees will be bruised tomorrow when they reach the front of the library. There’s an empty book cart in front of the circulation desk and Hux walks to it, locks the four rolling casters with a quick stomp of her foot before throwing her weight against it to check it’s stationary. Satisfied, she turns to Kylo.

 

She nudges Kylo’s face up with the toe of her shoes, the patent leather a cool touch of relief against the heat of her face. “Stand,” she commands, and Kylo clambers up on unsteady legs. Hux smirks at her quaking knees and Kylo shivers at her next command. “Strip.”

 

Her hands shake when she curls them in her top and there’s a disorienting moment as she tugs it over her head and gets lost in the voluminous material until a soft touch at her waist stills her. Hux coaxes the shirt off, gives it a sharp tug to pull the neckline over her head. Her hair, always unruly, is knocked completely askew and falls into her face. She blows it out of her eyes with a panting breath.

 

Hux’s eyes skim over her and she sucks in her stomach, suddenly self-conscious about the soft roll of it compared to trim form of the woman standing before her, but if Hux finds her body lacking she doesn’t comment, instead reaching out to brush her fingers against the cup of Kylo’s bra. She stutters out a breath when Hux rubs a finger over the thin cotton, feels her nipple tighten at the contact, poking through the soft material. Hux pinches the hardened nub, just a gentle squeeze, but even through the fabric it’s almost too-much too-good and she stumbles forward, is caught buy Hux’s surprisingly sturdy arms even as she stumbles backward a step from the unexpected weight.

 

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” She gasps out her apology, face smushed into Hux’s shoulder while they both try to steady themselves.

 

“Mmm,” Hux hums, “you’re very sensitive. _I like it._ ” They right themselves and she finds her balance again, Hux’s hands a reassuring touch on her sides as she finds her footing. Hux pulls the strap off her shoulder, guides it down over her arm and pulls the cup down. She slides her hand under the small weight of Kylo’s breast, squeezes just enough that her fingers sink into the fleshy give of it.

 

She bends down, wets her lips with a snake-quick dart of her tongue and flicks her eyes up from their frame of pale gold lashes to smile coquettishly at Kylo. “Steady, now,” she warns, before carefully taking the hardened bud between her lips. Kylo cries out as her tongue sweeps over the sensitive flesh, forced to put her hands on Hux’s shoulders to stay upright as her legs shake and her pussy drips with arousal. Hux sucks on her mouthful, her tongue darting back and forth over Kylo’s nipple, and when a quick nip of teeth graze over the tender flesh she sobs.

 

“Please,” she begs, and lets go of Hux’s shoulders to curl her hands in that shiny red hair. “Please,” and she’s not sure what’s she’s asking for, more or less or something else, only know her whole body burns hot and bright and her labia are so swollen they feel bruised. “Please,” she gasps a third time, and can’t help it when she tugs on her handful of hair.

 

Hux’s hand cracks against her ass, a short, hard swat that stings even through her leggings, and she jumps, chokes on whatever words she was going to say as Hux finally pulls her mouth back and stops torturing her with shivery good pleasure. “Behave,” Hux says, and smacks her again. She whimpers at the contact.

 

She nods, slowly, body trembling, pulse pounding in her ears when Hux undoes the clasp of her bra and guides it off. Hux’s hands are warm on her soft skin when they tug at the waist of her leggings, ease the stretchy fabric over the swell of her hips and the fleshiness of her thighs. Hux crouches as she pulls them down and she gives a frustrated huff of breath when she realizes Kylo still has her shoes on.

 

Kylo relaxes, just a little, as Hux tugs the short boots off her ankles, taking a strange comfort in the idea that Hux is maybe just a little bit flustered too, to forget about obstacles like shoes.

 

After the shoes are dealt with and Hux has tossed her pants aside she expects her to stand. Instead Hux wraps her hands around her thighs, rubs them up the length of them. Kylo can barely breathe at the sight of those finely boned hands on her pale legs, gasps as Hux smacks the inside of one just enough to make it jiggle. Finally, Hux presses two fingers right over dampness slowly spreading through the cotton of her cheap panties, smirks at her when they come away wet before she rise.

 

Hux leans close, so close, and Kylo’s eyes flutter closed, her lips part oh-so-slightly, but instead of the kiss she was expecting, hoping for, _desperate for,_ Hux slides her fingers between parted lips and she tastes the tang of her own arousal on them. She make a noise of complaint at being denied her kiss but sucks them obediently, flutters her lashes to see the look of satisfaction of Hux’s features.

 

Eventually Hux gives her a nudge to the book cart. “Bend over,” she instructs and Kylo bites her lip but does as she’s told, folds herself over and braces her hands on cool metal of the top shelf. At first she bends her head, but she’s looking down at her body, at the way gravity pulls her stomach, small but still there, into a gentle curve, at the sag of her breasts as the swing free. She closes her eyes instead.

 

The first smack of Hux’s hand to her ass shouldn’t be surprising, but it is anyway. She lets out a startled yell and her hands skid on the slick metal of the cart, sliding her forward as the abused skin stings. Hux’s hand lingers after the swat, her nails digging into the flesh she just reddened. “I told you, naughty girls get punished.” She nods her understanding, tries to steady herself for the next blow. Instead, Hux leans over her, and she moans at the feel of her already tender skin rubbing against the wool of Hux’s trousers, arches her back to press up against Hux’s frame, feels the firm mound of her breasts press against her shoulders. “I won’t make you count. Not this time-” and she moans again, at the tone, at the weight of Hux’s body, at the promise of next time- “but I do expect you to apologize. Am I clear?”

 

“Yes,” she nods frantically. “Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry ma’am.” Hux steps back, and she feels the rush of air as her hand arcs through it to slap against the tender crease where her thigh meets her cheek, all the air knocked from her lungs at the impact.

 

“What are you sorry for?” Hux demands, another spank slapping against her ass before the question’s even out.

 

“The books!” She cries, and her ass burns with a pain she never wants to stop, her cunt throbbing and wet, and there are tears collecting in her eyes. “I wasn’t careful with the books. I’m sorry, I’m sorry ma’am!” Hux spanks her again, her hand cracking against the soft skin, and she sobs, a tear slips free to track down the bridge of her nose, clings to the tip of it glistening in the edge of her vision, until the next hit rocks her forward and it slips off to splatter onto the cart below her.

 

There’s a pause, a moment of stillness, and she hiccups a watery breath because Hux stopped, she stopped, why did she stop, she was bad and she needs to be punished, it feels so good, she wants more, she was bad and she needs Hux to forgive her, but she needs to be punished, she’s sorry, please, don’t stop, she’ll be good, she wants to be good-

 

“Hey,” a soft whisper, right by her ear, and a gentle hand in her hair. “It’s ok, I’ll stop.”

 

“No!” She sobs, and only when she hears how shaky the word is does she realize she’s crying, tears streaking her face and breath catching in her lungs, her nose clogged as she blubbers. “Please, don’t stop. It feels so good. I want to be good-”

 

“Hush, you are. You’re such a good girl for me,” Hux soothes, voice low and lilting, hand combing through her wild curls. “Such a good girl, taking your punishment so well for me.”

 

“ _Please,_ ” she chokes out around a sob. “It feels so good. I want, I want it. _Don’t stop_.”

 

“Shh,” Hux breathes in her ear, hand leaving her hair to rest against the dip of her back. “Shh, ok, if you’re sure. Ten more, alright? Ten more, and you’ve taken your punishment.” Hux steps back just enough to pepper kisses over her shoulders, down the arc of her spine. “You’re so good for me. Such a sweet girl, you just need someone to show you.”

 

She cries at the next hit, at the cleansing pain the burns through her, that makes her legs wobble even as she tries to clench her thighs together to bring some relief to the throbbing nub of her clit, to ease the ache between her thighs that wants something to grind against, the need for fingers to slip up inside her slick cunt.

 

She loses herself to the sensation, feels her mind blank of anything that isn’t pleasure or pain, the two tangled and twisted together like the roots of two trees, growing as one. She rocks back into each smack, whimpers at each one and lets the momentum propel her forward until her hands are hanging off the other side of the cart, her belly pressed against the top rack.

 

Hux is speaking to her, and at first she registered the low words as numbers, a counter, tracking how many she had taken, but her mind fuzzed out and now the sound of Hux’s voice has melted into the background, has blended with the uneven cadence of the hits that litter her ass and thighs, melds into the smack of flesh of flesh until it all becomes an atonal symphony echoing in her blanked mind.

 

“Ten,” the word is followed by Hux’s palm landing squarely on the center of her left cheek, a sting compounded by another blow that landed there earlier and has deepened to a steady ache. The word is important, but she’s not sure why, barely hears it at first over the sound of her sobs until Hux bends over her again, wraps her arms around her and guides her off the cart to stand. “Ten, that’s ten. My sweet girl, my good girl, you did so well for me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she gasps again, out of habit, because she needs to say something, because she forgot to keep apologizing.

 

“No, no, sweet girl. You have nothing to apologize for.” She slumps back against Hux, her legs shaky, and Hux folds her arms around Kylo’s waist, lowers them to the floor with her feet tucked underneath her while Kylo’s legs spread wide around hers, Hux’s front warm against her back as she leans against her, thighs quivering.

 

“You did so well for me,” Hux praises and she moans. Hux’s hand slides around, over the curve of her hip and dips past the elastic of her panties, slips inside. She whimpers at the fluttering touch of fingers over her clit, and when Hux presses harder, rubs that swollen, aching, bud between her fingers Kylo’s hips jerk forward, desperate, frenzied. “My sweet, sweet girl,” Hux croons into her ear, and parts her labia, slips three fingers into her wet, quivering slit, so slick Hux’s slim fingers glide right in even as she relishes the stretch, and grinds the heel of her hand against Kylo’s clit and she screams as she comes, muscles tensing and body pitching forward, caught by the arm still tight around her, as the pleasures she’s ached for finally consumes her body.

 

She’s panting, hard, gulping in deep lungful of air, and Hux still has her tight, a hand pressed flat to her belly and the other combing through her hair while Hux murmurs to her, a steady babble she seizes onto as her body and mind settle. She makes a keening noise, nudges her cheek against Hux’s and Hux stops talking, through her fingers still scratch against her scalp. “My good girl,” Hux whispers to her, and there’s a reverence to her tone Kylo is certain she would’ve told anyone else she didn’t deserve. But here, with Hux still holding her, gentling her, as she soaks in the praise of being called Hux’s good girl, she basks in the tone.

 

“Please?” She asks, and the request is small and soft, it seems greedy to ask, after all Hux has given her tonight, but she’s never been particularly good at self restraint. She asks again, but not with words, twists her neck and knocks her nose against Hux’s cheek, purses her lips.

 

Hux huffs a laugh. “Greedy thing,” she says, but Kylo thinks there’s affection in the words. “Very well, I think you earned it.” The kiss is short, a brief touch of lips, but a jolt of pleasure buzzes through her at the contact and she thinks she’d happily stay there forever, even with her thighs stretched out and sore from straddling Hux, the strain in her neck from the awkward position.

 

Hux breaks the kiss and pats her leg. “Up,” she commands, and Kylo groans, muscles stiff and protesting, but she does as she’s told and climbs off of Hux’s lap, grimacing at the tingles that shoot up her leg when she realizes her foot fell asleep.

 

Hux is gathering up her discarded clothes, moving with a deliberate sense of motion instead of her usual grace that speaks to stiff muscles- Kylo didn’t think about how uncomfortable it must have been for Hux to hold her like that, and feels a warm rush of emotions at the fact that she did it anyway.

 

Hux hands her the pile of clothes and leaves her with instructions to dress while she fetches her things. She watches Hux disappear behind the door to her office and then pulls on her shirt, forgoing her bra. She peels her panties off and swipes them between her legs to get rid of some of the lingering wetness, pulls her leggings on. She’s stuffing her feet into her boots when Hux steps back out, jacket folded neatly over her arm, a rich leather briefcase in one hand, keys in the other.

 

“Do you live in the dorms?” Hux asks, and Kylo has to pause, breathe in as she’s suddenly jolted with the thought that for all they just did they know so little about each other. But there’s a warm glow in her chest, a hot little ember right behind her breastbone, that tells her she’d like to learn more, learn all there is to know about Hux.

 

“No,” she replies, voice soft. They’re barely whispering, even though it’s just the two of them in the empty library with no one to disturb. It’s absurd, they couldn’t possibly have been quiet before, but there something hanging in the air now, some mysterious quality that tells her to speak softly, as if she’ll wake herself from a dream if she makes too much noise. “I have an apartment off campus.” A sudden thought hits her. “What time is it? Are the buses still running?”  

 

Hux shakes her head. “No, it’s after midnight. Gather your things, I’ll drive you home.” Hux pauses, and for the first time she looks hesitant. “That is, if you’re comfortable with me knowing where you live.”

 

Kylo laughs, thinks of all the replies she could come up with- clearly she’s more comfortable with Hux than she has any right to be. After what they just did _this_ is what Hux thinks will bother her?- but for once she forgoes them, just shakes her head. “Yeah, thanks, that’d be great. Let me just get my bag.”

 

When she goes to pack up her bag the textbook is still open on the table. She closes it, picks it up and places it on the book cart with a smile. They walk out of the library, pausing so Hux can lock up, and walk to the parking garage without speaking, the click of Hux’s heels on the concrete the only sound since the campus is mostly dead.

 

Hux’s car is some economical, perfectly sensible four-door sedan that Kylo’s dad would roll his eyes at and complain that yeah, it’ll get you where you’re going, but will you have any fun going there? It’s parked in a spot with a ‘RESERVED for A. HUX’ sign. She climbs in, buckles the seat belt and puts her bag on the ground while Hux tucks her things into the backseat before sliding in,

 

“What’s the ‘A’ for?” She asks as Hux starts the car.

 

“That’s a secret,” Hux says, but softens the shutdown when she reaches across the console to place her hand on Kylo’s thigh, warm through her thin leggings.

 

She debates saying what she wants, then decides it’s ridiculous to get shy now. “My real name’s not Kylo Ren. Well, I mean, it is. I changed it. But it’s not what my parents named me.”

 

“Oh?” Is all Hux offers, her eyes flicking over. “Left or right?”

 

“Oh, uh, left. It’s off Endor,” she directs. “Yeah, my parents weren’t too happy when I told them I wanted to study history. And military history especially.” Hux squeezes her thigh as she skillfully navigates her car with one hand, encouraging even though she says nothing. “Said they weren’t going to pay for school if that’s what I went for, so I told them I didn’t need them.” She shrugs, even though Hux is watching the road and not her. “Told them I didn’t need their money or their family. So I changed it.”

 

“Parents can be difficult,” is all Hux says.  


“Things are, well, they’re not great, but they’re better now. Although they keep calling me by my old name.”

 

“What was it?”

 

She makes a face. “Bennie Organa-Solo. Or Solo-Organa, depending on which parent you ask.” If Hux recognizes the name she says nothing, just squeezes Kylo’s thigh again. They don’t say anything else except for giving directions until Hux is idling outside of Kylo’s building.

 

“Thank you for the ride. And for the-” her face flames and she cuts herself off.

 

Hux laughs and leans closer, taking her hand off the gearshift from putting the car in park to catch Kylo’s chin. “You’re welcome,” she says, and kisses her, slow and deep, tongue flitting along the seam of her lips. When Kylo moans and presses forward she pulls back. “Good night, Miss Ren,” she says with a small smile.

 

“Good night,” she returns, and swings open the car door. She steps into the cool night air and when she gets to the building’s door she glances over her shoulder. Hux tosses her a wave before pulling out into the road.

 

The stairs are hell on her legs, and she has to lean against the door jam for support as she fits her key into the lock. She drops her bag with a weary sigh and falls back against the door with a yawn once she’s inside.

 

She pulls her discarded bra and panties from her bag before she forgets to save her potential future embarrassment and tosses them toward the laundry hamper. They miss, but she’s too tired to care. She toes off her shoes, shucks off her clothes right there by the front door and walks through her tiny one room apartment to the bed.

 

She catches sight of herself in her mirror and stops, turns to study her reflection.

 

She’s a mess. Her hair is wild and her face is puffy and red from crying. There’s a faint red ring on her breast from Hux’s lipstick. She turns and cranes her neck to see her backside. Her ass is rosy red, parts of it already blossoming into purple bruises.

 

She stares at her reflection, at the breasts that she’s always thought were too small for the rest of her but that fit perfectly into Hux’s hand, her mouth. Her shoulders, almost too broad to be feminine, that Hux scattered kisses over. Kylo places a hand on her belly, right where Hux’s had rested, and presses into the give of it. She’s always loathed the softness. Her waist is narrow enough compared to her hips but there’s a fleshiness there she’s tried to get rid off, hating the way it folds into rolls when she sits, but Hux’s hands touched it without disgust. Her hips, that have swayed when she walked ever since she hit puberty and attract unwanted attention no matter what she does. Her ass, that jiggles, her thighs that rub together and are pockmarked with cellulite, and Hux touched all of it, gentle brushes of fingers and harsh slaps of her palm.

 

She looks at her body, limmed in nothing but moonlight, the body she’s never liked, never felt completely comfortable in, never felt was truly her own. She takes in the lipstick stains smeared on her, the bruises painting her, the unruly vee of curls pointing down to her sex. Touches her lips, still tingling with the warmth of Hux’s kiss.

 

For the first time, she looks in the mirror and smiles at what she sees.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait between chapters! I honestly hoped to get this posted much sooner, but real life got in the way. Hopefully the next update won't take a month.
> 
> Thank you so, so much to everyone who commented and left kudos. Your wonderful words of encouragment really got me motivated to write. I am so touched and flattered by the kind things you had to say. If I haven't responded to a comment you left I apologize! I have been incredibly busy but please know I appreciate each and every one and I hope to get to them soon.
> 
> In happier news I'm posting this on my birthday!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. It is unbeta'd, so please let me know of any mistakes you see.

When Kylo wakes up she’s curled into a small patch of weak, watery sunlight on her bed, filtered through her gauzy curtains. The air is autumn chilly and her skin is tight with gooseflesh, the hairs standing on end as she shivers and fishes around with her feet for the blankets she must have kicked to the end of the bed in her sleep. 

She manages to pull a blanket back over her, snuggles into it to ward away the chill. Her muscles, her entire body, aches deliciously. Her muscles are sore, her calves protest when she curves into a full body stretch, but her mind is clear, settled, and for once she feels well rested. Last night, as soon as she had slithered between her sheets still mussed from the morning, she had slid easily into sleep, not forced to try and soothe her wildly churning thoughts by counting the beats of her heart, timing the rise and fall of her breathing to the beat-beat-beat pulsing through her in a half-assed attempt at meditation.

She flicks on her coffee pot as she walks to the shower and when she emerges, twenty minutes later, skin pink and hair dripping, she sits on her bed with a chipped mug cradled in her palms and inhales the fragrant steam while the sunlight slowly creeps across the dinghy carpet. When her alarm chirps at her she shuts it off and drinks the last dregs of her coffee. The shower loosened her muscles but her legs are still too weak and stiff by turn, but even though they wobble as she walks to her dresser she relishes it, thankful that the proof of Hux’s attention still lingers.

It’s only when she plonks down on the molded plastic seating of the bus and hisses that she realizes how uncomfortable the bruises are. She studied her ass in the mirror as she got dressed. It had lost the rosy glow, most of it now the same pale white as the rest of her, except for the meaty part of her left side, stained a deep red, and the tops of her thighs, striped with bruises. She squirms uncomfortably, ducks her head so her face is covered by the fall of her hair and she can avoid the glances the other passengers shoot her as she burns with humiliation and a heavy flood of arousal.

Every glance of eyes at her, every new passenger that steps on and slides their gaze over her makes Kylo flush, heat crawling over her neck and face, creeping to the very tips of the ears she keeps covered with her hair. The nagging feeling that everyone who looks at her knows, that they can somehow see the bruises littering her pale skin, that they know Kylo crawled on her knees and begged to be spanked prickles at her skin, follows her the entire ride until they reach her stop. 

She hurries across the campus, head ducked and staring at her shoes as she weaves her way in between bleary-eyes students clutching coffee mugs and struggling to get to 8 o’clock classes. For once she’s early, her easy morning meant she caught the bus she should be taking, not the one fifteen minutes later that she usually ends up rushing for that puts her on the opposite side of campus from her first class, with just enough time to make it if she sprints. That quarter of an hour must make all the difference because as she walks past the library, it’s ivy-covered walls dappled in cresting sunlight, a bright shock of copper catches her attention.

Hux is standing outside the locked doors, a cigarette loosely dangling between her fingers, hair straight in a way Kylo can’t make hers even after an hour with a flat iron, her clothes professionally bland and completely unforgettable if not for the way they hug her slender frame and the fierce pair of shoes she’s wearing, a smooth black calfskin with a stiletto so sharp it could probably double as a weapon.

Kylo stares, struck with the thought that Hux didn’t taste like ash and smelled of nothing but the musk of her perfume, sweet and floral without being cloyingly feminine, when Hux flicks the ash off her cigarette and lifts her eyes as she goes to take a drag. Her eyes meet Kylo’s, the green striking through her even across the distance separating them, and Kylo watches the end of her cigarette flare as she draws in the smoke. Hux’s lips purse into a perfect O as she breathes the smoke out, the haze of it clouding Kylo’s sight of her before a morning breeze carries it away. 

Hux drops the butt, stomps it out with a sharp twist of her foot beneath her expensive heels, and jerks her chin up. Kylo straightens at the gesture, like a child being scolded, and it burns her to the core when Hux gives a pleased little smile. ‘Good girl,’ she mouths, and Kylo shudders at the thought of those words being rolled around in Hux’s mouth, at the husky voice she had spoken them with just the night before. 

Hux doesn’t say anything else, just turns with a swish of her hair and a click of her heels and walks to the entrance. When the door clicks shut behind her Kylo shakes her head to clear it and reminds herself she needs to make it to class. 

She walks quickly, but keeps her head held high, back straightened out of it’s slouch, the shame and doubts that consumed her soothed away by the sharp quirk of Hux’s smile.

The chairs that fill the lecture hall are no softer than the seating on the bus but the press of the unforgiving seat into her bruised skin makes her shiver with want, the edge of the seat, edges worn smooth, nips into the flesh of her thighs and presses white-hot against a heavy bruise. Her pulse thuds in her head, drowning out the drone of the professor as she rocks forward, backward, shifts just enough that she never gets comfortable.

Her squirming unsettles her book from her desk and it thunks to the ground with a flutter of pages as several heads swivel to look at her. Kylo curses quietly under her breath as she leans over to pick it up, scowling at everyone still staring at her until they look away.

She draws in a deep breath, counts to three and lets it out.

She scolds herself for not paying attention, tries to force herself to concentrate, but self-discipline has always been hard won for her. She thinks of Hux, who she had bent for so easily, so willingly, and glances around to make sure no one is looking at her as she tucks her hand under her thigh exactly as she did at the library. It settles her, grounds her, and while she distantly wonders what Hux would do if Kylo told her, confessed that she was able to behave, to be a good girl, for Hux even though Hux wasn’t there to order it, Kylo finds herself paying attention, the pain of her bruised ass fading into a distant thought, still there, but as comforting and unnoticeable as the weight of her hair on her shoulders.

____

She drifts through the day with the sting of her bruised ass and thighs a constant reminder that she can be good, behave, and floats on a flood of endorphins when she thinks about walking into the library when her classes are done, imagines sitting at the same table, same chair, as last night and waiting for Hux to come find her, spools out fantasies of Hux walking over to her, touching her cheek and brushing hair out of her eyes and telling Kylo how proud she is of her.

And she thinks of telling Hux that she was bad, that she couldn’t concentrate and disrupted class, she’s bad and she’s sorry and she wants to be better. And Hux will punish her, will bend her over and spank her, smack the consequences of her actions into Kylo’s skin until it hurts, but it’ll be a cleansing pain, it’ll feel good even as it feels bad, because it means she failed and she needs to be punished, but then she’ll be forgiven.

Maybe that’s all she needs, all she’s ever needed. Her entire life it seemed everyone just wanted her to behave so they could ignore her, so she did the opposite, made it impossible for them to ignore, because the only way to get someone to look at her was to cause trouble, and then even that failed to get her attention, but it was all she seemed to know how to do. 

But Hux, Hux scolded her and made her take her punishment, then held her and stroked her and told Kylo she was a good girl. She can learn to be good, learn to behave and try not to act out, if it means Hux’s fingers in her hair and soft words in her ears. 

She’s practically giddy when she springs up the stairs to the library door, the impact that runs up her leg with each fall of her feet a promise echoing through her. Even the air inside feels different, electrified and dancing on her skin despite the hush that hangs in the air. She glances around for Hux but catches no sight of her. Disappointment tries to settle on her but she pushes it aside, because even if Hux is not here her presence lingers, and strides to the same table she sat at last night.

Kylo hesitates as when she weaves through the bookshelves to her table. It’s unoccupied, and brightly lit in the late afternoon sun, but there’s a dark, wooden chair sitting at in instead of the shabby, broken-in, cheap seating with their worn thin cushions with stuffing poking out that sit at all the other tables. The chair is tall and unforgiving, the sharp, straight line of it’s back already makes her back hurt just looking at it, and the hard slats of the seat will press into her bruised, tender skin, the unbeveled edge of the seat will bite deep and press a thin, red line into the wobbly give of the backs of her thighs. 

She postpones sitting down as long as she can, drops her bag to the ground and crouches to excavate her notes and books from it, takes as long as she possibly can to plug in and power on her small laptop, gives a sigh of relief when the ancient thing comes to life with a small jingle. A new one is an expense she just can’t stretch her budget to afford right now, no matter how desperately she may need one.

Finally, there’s nothing left to do but sit.

The chair is exactly as terrible as she anticipated. She whimpered when she sat on it, her shoulder blades dig into the high back of it and the wood makes her butt throb and her thighs go numb. Her thoughts are too scattered by her discomfort to focus, even closing her eyes and counting her breaths, trying to picture the pleased look on Hux’s face when she finds Kylo squirming brings her no comfort. She considers moving, switching to a different seat, but the thought of disappointing Hux, of disobeying her, makes her whimper.

She’s too busy squirming, caught in the gnarled web of her distress to hear the telltale click of heels on the floor. Hux lays her hand on top the the fist Kylo clenched her fingers into in an attempt to wrest control back. “Shh, hey, calm down,” Hux coaxes, and Kylo jerks, gives a small, lost sob at the warm contact. 

“I’m sorry!” She chokes out, overcome with shame that Hux is seeing her so rattled. 

“No, shh, it’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Hux soothes as she pulls Kylo out of the chair and into her arms, propping herself up against the table. Kylo trembles in her hold, face buried into Hux’s shoulder while Hux runs a palm over her hair. “Was it too much?”

She nods. “I’m sorry. I wanted,” she swallows, “I wanted to be good for you. I was, I was good all day. But it,” she trails off into a sniffle, lets Hux rock her for a moment before continuing in a whisper. “It hurt.”

“Sweet girl,” Hux says, and she sobs at the name. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, I should have been here. It was too much, I should have known.”

“No!” She tries to pull away, but Hux holds her tight. “I’m sorry,” she begs, desperate for Hux to know she isn’t weak, that she can take it, that she’ll do better next time and won’t be the disappointment she always is. “I’ll be better, I promise. Please don’t-”

“Hush,” Hux tells her, firmly but not unkind. “It was too much, but that’s not your fault. I should’ve been here to check. I shouldn’t have left you all on your own, but that’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong. This is my failing, not yours. You’re so good, such a good girl for me.” She relaxes, slowly, under Hux’s kind hands and soft words, her shoulders drooping when it finally registers that Hux isn’t mad, that the accusations that Kylo ruined everything aren’t going to come. 

She takes a few deep, shuddering breaths and steps back, Hux’s arms falling away slowly from her while she scrubs at her face, embarrassed by her outburst. “ ‘M sorry,” she mumbles into her palms, only looking up when Hux catches a hand under her chin.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she stresses. “I told you, if you need me to stop, we stop.”

She tries to duck her head but Hux doesn’t let her. “I just, I don’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“You are so very good for me, aren’t you?” Hux asks, tucking hair behind Kylo’s ear with awe in her voice. Kylo flushes, feels her face heat at the praise as she leans into the soft touch of Hux’s hand. “If something is too much, if you don’t like it, you need to tell me. I won’t be disappointed, there’s no shame in it.”

“I was fine all day. I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened,” Hux begins, pressing her thumb into the part of Kylo’s lips, “is you were fine, and then you weren’t, so we stopped. You are not in trouble for this.”

She closes her eyes, unable to look into the piercing depth of Hux’s green ones so very close to her own, feels the drag of Hux’s thumb against her lips as she speaks. “What if I want to be?” The whisper is mouse-quiet, barely there, so soft for a moment she’s not sure she said it, but when she blinks open her eyes Hux is grinning. “What if I was bad, and I need to be punished?”

“Have you gotten any studying done at all?” She shivers at Hux’s voice, the concern dropped in favor of a razor sharp threat, Hux’s thumb prying her jaw open to rest possessively against her tongue. “Or have you just wasted time, like the spoiled little girl you are?”

He heart beats against her ribs, a burst of adrenaline making her shake as she tries to talk around the finger trapping her tongue. “I’m sorry, ma’am” she mumbles, drool spilling from the corner of her mouth. Hux clucks her tongue in derision.

“Spoiled thing,” she spits, and Kylo’s breath hitches at the ridicule in her tone. “If you can’t behave on your own I’ll just have to teach you.” Hux grabs her hair, yanks her back by it. “Show me you can be good, can take orders. Meet me in the ladies room.” Hux shoves her gently, a sharp push to her shoulder that sends her stumbling. She rights herself and stands there, eyes closed and breath heaving as she tries to calm herself. “Now, Miss Ren. My patience is not infinite and you’ve already tried it enough.” Hux’s tone brooks no argument and Kylo shuffles off, legs wobbling as her heart pounds and wetness slicks between her thighs. 

She’s startled when she steps out from the shelves and realizes that other people are in the library, that she and Hux were in fact not all alone and how easily they could’ve been caught. There’s a low level buzz of conversation and she can’t help but flush as she walks past, tries to push aside the ridiculous thought that they’re all whispering about her. 

There’s a girl standing at the sink, washing her hands. The grind of the automatic paper towel dispenser is gratingly loud, echoing in the tiled room while Kylo stands awkwardly just inside the door, waiting for her to finish and leave. The girl tosses her a weird look as she brushes past to the door, throwing her crumpled up paper towel in the bin. When she’s gone Kylo blows out a breath, grateful she didn’t attempt any conversation since her mind seems unable to concentrate on anything other than the throbbing core of her. 

She twists on the faucet and cups cold water in her hands, splashes it on the back of her neck and shivers at it drips down the back of her shirt, clings to the fine curls of hair that she can never catch in a hair elastic. Her eyes are glassy with desire, cheeks stained pink and she must have been chewing on her lip, a piece of dead skin barely hanging on and a drop of blood welling. She presses her cool hands to her cheeks, focuses on the sound of the water splashing into the sink.

She’s startled out of her hard won calm by the door opening, heatbeat slamming in the hollow of her throat when Hux closes the door and turns the lock with a metallic snick before stalking over to her with the deadly grace of a predator in a nature documentary.

“Wasterful,” Hux scolds, standing right behind her and reaching around to turn the tap off with a vicious twist before settling her hand on Kylo’s hip, fingers skirting under the edge of her shirt to brush her skin. She moans at the contact and her eyes drift closed.

“Look at you,” Hux whispers, the words ruffling her hair and Hux’s palms skim up the soft plane of her belly, her fingers tripping over her ribs until she cups the weight of Kylo’s breasts in her hands. “Look at how you fit into my hands,” she says as she squeezes the swell of Kylo’s tits, just enough for her fingers to press in, skirting the edge of pain. “Look,” Hux commands again, and she does.

Hux’s chin is hooked over her shoulder and their eyes meet in the mirror before Kylo has to glance away, throat choked up when she sees the heat in Hux’s gaze. No one has ever looked at her like that, with a heat that sears her and makes her heartbeat thud in her ears. She’s been lusted after before, had paramours who saw something appealing in the jiggle of her thighs and the softness that pads her hips, but they’ve always looked at her like she’s a possession to be owned, and while she won’t deny the boost to her ego she chafed against the desire to be owned. Hux though, there’s a fierceness in her eyes, but she isn’t staring at Kylo like she’s something she can just purchase and keep. She’s looking at her like Kylo is some half-feral animal she needs to tame, like she wants coax Kylo to stay by her side not out of ownership but because she chooses to be there.

She whimpers when Hux slips a finger inside the cup of her bra, tweaks a sensitive nipple. “It’s as if you were made to fit into my hands,” Hux says, plucking the nipple into hardness while she drops her other hand to grab a handful of Kylo’s ass, fingers digging into the bruises and sparking a white hot ache that makes her pussy leak sticky wetness into her panties. “Like you were made for me to hold.”

“I was,” she moans before she can think better of it, head falling back to rest against Hux’s shoulder. “I was,” she gasps again.

Hux grins at her in the mirror. “My sweet, sweet girl. So perfect in my hands.” She moans again, at the way Hux digs her fingers into the tender swell of her ass, at the short little twist of her nipple before Hux pulls her hand away, at the words, because in that moment she believes she is, believes Hux’s hand can mould her like a sculptor into something perfect. 

Hux’s clever fingers work free the top few buttons of Kylo’s shirt, the nimble movements maddening even through the cotton before she guides Kylo to shrug it off, the loose fabric pooling at her hips, before opening the clasp of her bra and sliding the straps off her arms and laying it to rest on the shallow ledge of the mirror. “All this pale skin,” Hux muses, hands burning a path up her arms, over her shoulders. “It looks so pretty, covered in bruises.” Hux tips her head down, nips her teeth into the delicate juncture of shoulder and neck. 

“Yes,” Kylo begs, tilting her head to offer her neck up to Hux. Hux’s teeth latch on, a firm bite that she can feel all the way in the pulled taut muscle, never breaking skin but pulling pools of blood right beneath the surface. When Hux lets go it’s already blooming an inky indigo, the white indents of teeth stark against the deepening bruise. It’s high up, will peek through the collars of her shirt and she shivers when she realizes the strap of her bag is going to chafe against it.

“So beautiful for me,” Hux praises, blowing across the mark she just left. Kylo stumbles, knees giving out, and has to catch herself with her palms against the counter as Hux chuckles behind her. “Really now,” Hux scolds softly, hands catching at Kylo’s shoulders to pull her upright. “Posture, Miss Ren. Unless you want me to punish you for slouching too.” She gives into the tug of Hux’s hands, straightens her spine and is rewarded when Hux presses tight against her back. 

Hux reaches into her pocket, pulls something out that glints in the flourescent lighting. She holds her hand before Kylo and unfurls her fist, the item falling out to dangle from her fingers with a jangle of metal on metal. Her eyes widen when she takes in the short chain, the hinged clamps on either end, one swaying while the other is caught in Hux’s delicate hand. “Do you know what these are?” Hux asks, and she nods, tries to speak but only a high pitched squeak comes out. Hux moves her hand closer, lets the chain drag and dangle in the hollow between Kylo’s breasts, the clamp at the bottom bouncing against her sternum. “You’re a smart girl,” Hux coaxes, swaying the chain back and forth. “What are these for, Miss Ren?”

She swallows, swallows again when her throat is still dry. “They’re clamps,” she croaks out, watches herself blush in the mirror, feels and sees the crawl of it down her neck and shoulders, a pretty rose tint that sharpens the contrast of the bruise on her neck. “For my, for my tits,” she trails off into a whisper. 

“Yes,” Hux agrees, bringing her other hand up to pinch at Kylo’s nipple. “For your pretty, pink tits.” She teases the little bud to hardness, tugs on it and pinches open the clamp in her hand. She doesn’t place it, not yet, just brushes the soft plastic coating on the inside over the tight nub of her nipple, and Kylo squirms against the touch. “I’m going to put these on,” Hux tells her, and Kylo’s breath catches at a slow drag of the clamp, “then you’re going to walk past all those people while wearing these clamps and go study like the good little girl I know you can be.” 

She catches her lip, chews it in an attempt to ground herself, to fight the haze that’s clouding her thoughts before she can answer. “Yes,” she agrees, wriggling back against Hux at the thought of all those eyes on her. “Yes, I can be a good girl.”

“I know you can,” Hux croons softly, skimming a soft kiss over the mark she left while she releases the clamp with no warning. Kylo screams at the pinch of it, the tug to her teased nipple and the areola, the weight of the chain tugging her breast down. “Such a sweet girl,” Hux praises her, pulling cruelly on the chain just to make Kylo whimper. “Do you like this?” She asks, sugary sweet, and all Kylo can do is keen. “Do you like having a clamp on your sweet little nips?” She rasps her fingers over the squeezed bud of her nipple, and Kylo gasps at the touch, the warmth of skin burning on the sensitive nub while her labia is swollen and desperate to be touched, the fabric of her leggings clinging to her thighs with dampness.

Every sway sends the chain swinging, twisting and pulling, and she’s half mad with the burn of it, the way even small air currents across the tortured skin of her breast sends sparks skittering down her spine. She almost collapses when Hux starts tugging on the other nipple, can’t stifle the yell that startles out of her when she’s overcome with the realization that the other clamp is going on there too, and that after that she’ll have to walk out of the bathroom and find a way to keep upright and not draw attention to herself while she walks back to her table. 

“Are you ready for the next one?” Hux asks, lifting it up. She whimpers at the way the shift of the chain tugs the clamp.

“Yes,” she gasps, then, “No. I don’t, I don’t know,” she chokes on the words, heaves a deep breath that she chokes on when the rise of her chest makes the clamp bounce.

“Shh,” Hux soothes, and reaches up to stroke her hair, tips Kylo’s head back and scatters small kisses along her temple. “You’re being so good for me. So good. Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.” She closes her eyes, focuses on the light touches Hux is using to calm her, regulates her breathing to match the long, slow scratch of Hux’s fingers against her scalp, arches up into the touch.

“I’m ready,” she announces, pleased that her voice only shakes a little. “Do it,” she says with a nod, catching Hux’s gaze in the mirror, warmed by the slow curl of a smile on Hux’s perfect lips. Hux flicks her tongue out to lick two fingers on the hand not holding the other clamp and wraps her arm around Kylo, her forearm jostling the clamp already biting into her skin, and touches her damp fingers to Kylo’s tit.

She hisses at the cold touch, tries to jerk away but only knocks her back into Hux’s front. Hux massages her fingers around until Kylo glances down to see her nipple glistening with wetness. She whimpers when Hux tugs on it, stretches it just slightly before opening the clamp. Kylo holds her breath as Hux slowly releases pressure on the clamp, the two prongs slipping closer together torturously slow. She whimpers at the first press of the rubber tips to her nipple, a pathetic little sound that grows louder when Hux lets go entirely and the ends squeeze together.

She feels tears slip out and her face is so red they feel cool as they slither down her cheeks. Hux gives her a minute to adjust, strokes her hair again and Kylo presses into the touch even as her hips shift forward, trying to find some friction for her aching cunt to grind against. Hux doesn’t say anything as she calms herself down, waits until the jarring ache of her tits fades enough that it doesn’t consume her, the insistent throb of her pussy settles to a constant ache that makes her thighs twitch and jump, her hips shunting forward in minute little thrusts that Hux stops with a hand against her stomach. 

“You’re going to walk back to your table and be a good girl and study. I’m going to check on you in fifteen minutes to make sure you’re doing you schoolwork, understand?” Hux asks, her tone conversational. Kylo whines at her words but nods.

She starts to reach for her bra but Hux slaps her hand away. She jerks her smarting hand back and the sharp movement jostles her whole torso, the chain, suspended between her breasts, swings wildly and her knees almost give under her except Hux catches her, hands tight at her waist, until the ground steadies beneath her as she takes panting breaths.

“Did I say to put your bra back on?”

“No, no ma’am.” The hands at her waist squeeze into the soft folds of her stomach once, a comforting, steadying touch, before dropping away. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” She straightens, slowly, careful to make the chain move as little as possible. She trembles when she thinks of walking like this, tits bouncing without a bra, only a thin layer of cotton keeping her covered.

Hux helps her shrug back into her shirt, fingers working in reverse of before as they redo the buttons, tucking Kylo back away for only her eyes to see. She picks up Kylo’s faded bra, folds the cups in on themselves and stuffs in it her pocket. It ruins the perfect line of her trousers, bulging weirdly and gapping open, a flash of color from Kylo’s bra clashing with the lining of the pocket when she moves. 

Her legs shake as she walks and she chews the inside of her cheek bloody just walking from the sink to the door in an attempt to keep quiet. Hux turns the lock, the tumblers rolling into place with a clanging click, and before she swings open the door she looks at Kylo. “My beautiful girl,” she praises, touching the back of her hand to Kylo’s heated cheek. “So good for me. How could I not want you?” 

She nudges Kylo out of the door, steps out right behind her and pulls an ‘Out of Order’ sign taped to the door down. That, Kylo thinks, explains how they were in there for so long with no one knocking on the door. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Hux reminds her, and walks off without a glance over her shoulder. 

She treks slowly back to her table. A deep breath before she lifts her foot, a slow exhale when she puts it down, rocks her weight forward and has to bite down on the noise that tries to claw up her throat at the swing in the chain. She swears she can hear it clacking every time she moves regardless of how soft she keeps her steps and when she looks down she sees the outline of it bow out against the loose fabric of her shirt before it falls back to smack against her chest. 

Her slow pace gets her a few odd looks, but she glares at the offenders until they go back to ignoring her. Thankfully no one tries to ask if she’s okay, she’s not sure she has the words to answer.

When Kylo’s finally made her way back to the table she sees that the uncomfortable wooden chair is missing, and in it’s place sits one with a padded seat, plusher and nicer than the chairs for student use that scatter the library. She frowns at it- does Hux think she’s needs to be coddled now? That she’s weak?- but the ache in her tits reminds her that no, Hux obviously doesn’t think that, this isn’t an insult to her pride. She settles herself on the chair, a whimper she can’t keep in slipping out when her breasts bounce at the motion. 

Her laptop is still turned on but asleep, and when she tries to wake it up her hand is so shaky she misses the touchpad. She ends up bracing her wrist with her other hand to steady herself enough to clear the screen saver. The cursor for her essay blinks tauntingly at her, a reminder of the work she has to do, but any attempt at typing is hopeless, her motor skills shot by the desire that courses through her veins. She closes the laptop as gently as her shaking hands will allow and pulls a book over to her, tries to focus on the page.

She has to be good, she promised Hux.

But despite how much she wills herself to focus the words swim, letters blur together in combinations that don’t make sense. She gives up on studying, instead concentrates on sitting still, resisting the urge to sway side to side to feel the chain slither cooly against her skin, the way the clamps tug at her nipples, forces herself to keep her feet flat on the ground and spread apart so she can’t squeeze her thighs together, grounds herself with the ache in her tits and the cooling of the wetness that’s soaked through her tights. 

Kylo tries to count the minutes in her head but she’s too lost, her concentration fracture by the scream of her tortured nipples that it’s too much and the demand of the rest of her that it’s not enough. It’s a dragging eternity that is over too quickly when Hux strides around the corner of a bookshelf, her lips curling when Kylo straightens out of the slouch her back has curved into immediately at the sight. 

Hux doesn’t say anything, the click of her footsteps more of a promise than any word she could find in the books she loves so much, and perches on the edge of the table. She reaches out and cups one of Kylo’s breasts in her hand, jiggles the small handful of it as if weighing it, and flicks the clamp, forcing a pained whimper out that Kylo can’t contain.

“Do you want them off?” She asks, voice half playful and half serious.

“Yes,” Kylo gasps, and then throws herself as far back against the chai as she can when Hux moves, suddenly terrified she’ll take the clamps off right now. “No,” she begs, wild. “Not yet. Just a little longer. Please, not yet.” 

Hux catches her chin in her palm, strokes her thumb over Kylo’s cheek and she nuzzles into the touch. “If you’re sure.” She nods, unable to find the words, but Hux seems to hear them anyway.

Hux turns away and begins to pack up Kylo’s things, tucking them into her beaten up bag with a care her things don’t deserve. She doesn’t try to help, just watches, entranced with the idea that Hux’s fingerprints are going to cover the things Kylo uses everyday. When she’s done Hux hefts the strap onto her thin shoulder. She starts to walk away without a word, a small hitch in her step from Kylo’s heavy bag making her lopsided. She pauses, tosses a glance over her shoulder. “Do keep up now, Miss Ren,” she calls.

Kylo scrambles out of her chair, the legs scraping loudly, almost knocks it over and barely manages to catch it. Hux is clearly uninterested in waiting for her and Kylo has to abandon the carefully measured steps she took before to catch up to Hux, each quick step making her whimper and groan, the chain constantly shifting, never settling, her nerves sparking, what little breath she has knocked out of her with every hasty step.

Hux finally slows when Kylo catches up, pauses just long enough for them to stand side by side and lays her hand, warm and flat, against Kylo’s back, palm just brushing the swell of her ass. The air stutters in her lungs at the touch and she misses a step, almost stumbles but the gentle touch of Hux’s palm somehow steadies her.

They attract stares when they cross into the more populated area of the library. How could they not, two women, both over six foot tall, Hux with the confident walk of someone who expects not to be questioned, the grungy bag slung on her shoulder clashing with the clean cut lines of her clothes, a sharp contrast to the understated but undeniably expensive shoes she wears, the tasteful necklace that settles at the hollow of her throat. 

Hux doesn’t falter despite the stares, keeps up her course unaltered, long legs eating up the distance but never hurrying, the hand on Kylo’s back a steady, unwavering leash she never fights against.

Kylo can barely stay standing when Hux finally stops in front of a nondescript door, turns the handle with a metallic screech and swings it open. She nudges Kylo inside with the hand on her back, swiftly follows in after her and locks the door.

It must be some sort of storage room, stuffed full bookshelves line the walls and boxes litter the floor, books sitting ontop when the boxes are overflowing, a disorganized chaos she’s surprised Hux allows to exist in her library.

The wooden chain is in the center of the room. It takes her a moment to recognize it’s the same chair, it seems so much less sinister with Hux at her side, but her back stiffens in anticipation of the torture, her thigh twitches with a faint memory of the pain of that wooden seat digging in. Hux pats the tightened muscles of her back and steps around her, walks to the chair and folds herself into it with a liquid grace, legs extended imperially out in front of her, looking like an Empress on her throne as she crosses her legs with a quicksilver toss of her foot and settles back into the hard seat of the chair. 

Kylo whimpers at the smouldering heat in Hux’s eyes.

“Strip,” Hux commands, and even with her thoughts sluggish Kylo’s muscles know to obey. She tugs her shirt off, not bothering to undo the buttons and yanks it off with a quick tug, sending her hair askew. She shivers in the cold air, gasps when the sudden chill makes her nipples try to tighten even with the press of the clamps. Her leggings stick to her skin, a sticky, damp mess that clings to the crease of her thighs as she peels them down. When she bends to slide them off the shift in the chain, the downward pull of the clamps on her breasts makes her give a broken cry, she has to pause to catch her breath before she works on pulling her panties down too.

She hesitates, still bent over, before she straightens. This will be the first time Hux sees her truly naked, and the terrifying thought that Hux may find her lacking, may look at the padding of fat on her thighs and hips, the slight rounding of her belly, makes her heart kick in her chest. She can’t meet Hux’s eyes, just stares at those long legs. She hears Hux take a shuddery breath and closes her eyes, braces herself for the rejection she knows is coming, for the humiliating words that will mock and taunt her even long after she’s left.

It doesn’t come.

“My beautiful girl,” Hux croons, and Kylo almost drowns on the wave of relief. “So soft and lovely. Come here,” she orders, and pats a hand on her lap. Kylo staggers forward, unable to resist, and starts to topple over but is steadied by Hux’s hands splayed across her stomach, pressing into the give of it, before she helps guide Kylo to straddle her lap. 

Kylo pants in her breaths, overcome by the nearness of Hux, the hands that hold no judgement even as the lay on the most hated part of herself, the feel of Hux’s thighs, not just slim but corded with lean muscle digging firmly against her ass, her knees stuck on either side of Hux’s hips, pressing into the arms of the chair. The frame of her green eyes with the sharp flick of cat-eye liner, the perfect ruby red of her lipstick that makes her teeth glint a predatory white when she flashes a smile. 

“You’re so very good for me, aren’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.” She moans, tucks her face into Hux’s neck where she can feel the flutter of a pulsepoint just below the delicate skin, braces her hands on Hux’s shoulders, the fine silk of her blouse warmed and carrying with it the faintest trace of Hux’s perfume. She wiggles, just enough to feel the slippery slide of Hux’s shirt against her nipples, loses herself to another moan. 

“Please,” she whispers. Hux’s laugh is rich and sweet so close to her ear. Her entire body shakes when Hux worms her hand in between them and thumbs the hardened bud of her nipple. The pressure of a clamp lets up, just a little, as Hux squeezes it open, holds it for a few frantic beats of Kylo’s heart, them releases it to bite back down again. 

She groans, hips rocking forward in the tight space to rub her pussy over the wool of Hux’s trousers. A firm hand in her hair yanks her back, forces her spine into a bend even as her hips keep trying to grind forward. She sees every slow, deliberate movement of Hux’s hand as she reaches up again, grasps the clamp and compresses the two sides of the clamp, slowly eases the bite of it until the rubber nubs of the pads are barely touching her skin before Hux drops the clamp entirely.

Kylo screams. Blood rushes back to the abused skin, smarting and aching, throbbing with the hurt even as she shudders in pleasure, nerves that had gone numb exploding back to life with the force of a collapsing star, skin that had gone cold suddenly feeling on fire as the flow of blood resumes beneath the skin.

Hux fingers slide against the folds of her pussy, twisting and coating themselves in the juices dripping out of her and onto Hux’s trousers. Her pelvis still jerks forward and back, a dirty grind down onto Hux’s hand before toomuchtoomuchtoogood makes her pull away from the teasing promise of the feather light touch.

“Please,” she begs again, meaning lost, saying it because it’s the only thing echoing in her head. “Please please please.”

Hux bends down, circles the tip of her tongue, wet and rough, around the darkened skin of Kylo’s areola as she slips her fingers between the soaking folds of her labia, twist those long fingers in the clinging, velvet heat and nips her teeth against the peaked bud of Kylo’s nipple. Her body tenses, muscles quivering from being held too tight, kept right on the cusp of pleasure, the muscles in her shaky legs twitching, clit throbbing, so swollen it aches. She hangs, unable to tip past the edge, whimpering for mercy, when Hux yanks on the chain and the other clamp is pulled off her breast, a flood of endorphins rushing through her, too good to be pain but too overwhelming to really be pleasure, a surging release as her body tenses so tight she worries something may snap before her muscles melt, slumping her forward, no longer able to stay upright as she muffles her cries against Hux’s shoulder.

She’s unsure what pulls her out of the floating daze her mind swirls in, only knows there’s something outside herself coaxing her back and she clings to it, follows the lilting thread of it until her thoughts solidify and she realizes Hux is talking to her. No, not talking, reading. Somehow Hux has moved them out of the chair and she’s propped with her back against the chair. Kylo is sprawled boneless, legs stretched out on the floor while the rest of her tries to curl into the cradle of Hux’s lap, Hux’s fingers carding through the tangles in her hair while she holds a book with the other one.

“-historians still debate about how involved Tarkin was in the destruction of Jedha, some evidence suggesting he himself called for the Temples to be wiped out, others arguing that it was not Tarkin himself but instead his contemporary, Orson Krennic, who should be-Oh, welcome back,” Hux cuts herself off softly, closing the book and laying it beside her with the rustle of paper. Her hand stops running through Kylo’s hair but when she mewls at the loss of contact those fingers return, scratching against her scalp before sliding down to rub at her neck. 

“You like Tarkin,” Kylo says, surprised by how raspy her voice is, how raw her throat feels.

“He did many good things, and many bad things. I’m unsure if he should be considered a success or a failure, but he is certainly not uninteresting.” Kylo nods, rubbing her cheek against Hux’s thigh where it rests. 

“He knew Darth Vader,” she murmurs.

“He did,” Hux agrees, and lets the conversation drop, focuses instead on kneading the knots in Kylo’s shoulder. Kylo arches into the firm touch, the dig of a palm into her shoulder hurting in a way she almost wants to pull away from but instead leans into the steady touch and the promise it gives of relief. 

She relaxes under Hux’s hands, soaks up the warmth of her thin frame. She’s never lounged naked like this with other partners, always eager to pull away, desperate to cover herself and hide away her flawed body so that when the lust fades from their eyes they won’t be able to use the jiggle of fat that she can never get rid of as a weapon to tear her down with. But she lets Hux touch her, stroke her, and when her hand glides down over Kylo’s shoulder, tickles down her ribs and rests on the swell of her hip Kylo simply sighs in contentment, unconcerned with sucking in the roll of her belly, and nuzzles against Hux’s leg.

She lazes like that until the chill of the room becomes too much, her skin prickling as she shivers. Hux helps her shift and raises to her feet before offering Kylo a hand and pulling her up. She tilts her head, the sweep of her red hair brushing Kylo’s cheek as she presses a soft kiss against Kylo’s shoulder. 

Hux helps her redress, guides her arms into her sleeves and helps her step into her leggings, drops a quick kiss to the jutting bone of Kylo’s ankle when she crouches to guide her foot into her shoes. Hux even picks up Kylo’s bag from where she dropped it, right inside the door, and lifts the strap over Kylo’s head, settling the strap on her shoulder with gentle touches. She kisses her forehead, a final, lingering contact that doesn’t seem like a ‘goodbye’ but an ‘I’ll miss you’ before she walks to the door, leaving Kylo nothing to do but follow.

Unspoken she follows Hux in silence, out through the lobby of the library, thinned of students, past the front desk where Hux nods a good night to Mitaka, and out the doors to campus where the lamps are just beginning to flicker on, a dampened buzz of energy that will only pick up as it gets darker that must hang over every college campus on a Friday night filling the air.

Kylo stays silent until they’re situated in Hux’s car, the engine quietly humming to life. “Is the ‘A’ for Amelia?” She asks, eyeing the Reserved for A. Hux sign.

Hux lets out a startled laugh, a noise that is almost bubbly. “No,” she says. “Guess again.”

“Amber? I mean, amber can be red, and your hair-”

“You think I’m named after tree sap?” Hux asks, nose wrinkling in distaste. Kylo giggles a little, thinking that if the other students knew the stern librarian could look so cute Hux would never be able to keep them in line.

“That’s a no?” She stares out her window, tries to seem disinterested while still maintaining the conversation, scared that if she’s too forward Hux will shut the conversation down.

“That’s a definite no.”

“Will you tell me if I get it right?” She questions, glancing away from the street passing by her window to catch Hux’s little smile, feels herself flush at the small curl of lips.

“You won’t, it’s,” Hux hums for a minute, “unusual, if you want to be diplomatic.”

“You don’t like your name?”

Hux shakes her head. “No,” she says, simply. Kylo fiddles with the strap of her bag, twists the hem of her shirt in her fist until the fabric is distorted and wavy when she releases it.

“Do you want me to stop asking?” Hux doesn’t respond, but she reaches over, squeezes Kylo’s thigh and leaves her hand there.

When she pulls into a spot in front of the building Hux squeezes her thigh again before resettling her hand on the wheel. “Enjoy your weekend,” she tells Kylo, and Kylo nods. She goes to open the door but is stopped when Hux leans over and puts a hand ontop of hers. When Kylo turns to look at her Hux’s mouth is open but she snaps it closed. “I’ll see you Monday,” Hux says, and Kylo doesn’t ask what she wanted to say, nods even as her heart seems to swell at the promise of seeing Hux again.

“Yeah,” she confirms. “Monday.” Hux smiles, lifts her hand away to let her out. Before she can talk herself out of it Kylo darts across the seat and smacks a sloppy kiss to Hux’s lips before she scrambles out of the car, face flushed.

She tries to scurry away after she slams the door but the whirring of the window being rolled down stops her. “Goodnight, Miss Ren,” Hux calls, leaning across to look out the open window. Kylo walks the few steps back, bends down to look inside. Hux’s lipstick is smeared, a feathering little corner that ruins the perfect line, and the sight of it, the reminder that she did that, that she’s responsible and Hux let her get away with it, that Hux must like her, gives her the courage.

“You can call me Kylo,” she offers shyly.

“Goodnight, Kylo,” Hux says, inclining her head, confidence seemingly restored except Kylo sees how her fingers drum on the steering wheel, tapping out an uneven pattern. “Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Goodnight,” she returns quietly, “See you Monday,” and steps back on the curb when Hux puts the car in drive. She watches the car disappear around the corner before she walks to the door of the building, every step light.

It’s only when she’s safely in her apartment, door locked and bookbag sitting on her desk chair, shedding layers as she walks to her bed that she realizes. She starts laughing, carefree and joyous in a way she hasn’t been in a long time into the empty apartment.

Hux never gave her back her bra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A word of caution- Nipple clamps can be very fun, but please be careful when using them, espicially if you are inexpierenced with them. Clamps which are too tight and left on for too long can cause nerve damage. The clamps I've describe here are clover clamps, which are suitable for more long term wear because they aren't very strong. But again, if you are new please, please proceed with caution, and be very careful not to do anything that could damage yourself or others. If you're interested in using them I suggest going to your local sex shop and asking detailed questions to determine what's best for you!
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment or hitting the kudos button!
> 
> Feel free to come scream with me about Star Wars at my Tumblr
> 
> https://cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com
> 
> I'm nice, I promise!


	3. Chapter 3A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently while I worked on this.
> 
> I apologize for the long wait but this chapter actually ended up being longer than the previous two combined, so I hope that makes up for it.
> 
> If you notice this is marked as Chapter 3A. The chapter ended up being over 20 thousand words long, so I've chosen to split it into two parts. The sencond part IS written, it just needs to be edited. I promise that will be posted tomorrow.
> 
> A huge, giant thanks to several people for their support and encouragement and constant handholding- youdidnotseeme, without whom this story wouldn't even exist, goldengarter/lovethighholsters, and beeeeebeeee.
> 
> This story also has art! 
> 
> The amazing talented goldengarter asked for permission to draw a scene from chapter 2, and of course I said yes! Make sure to go check it out and tell them how wonderful it is!
> 
> http://goldengarter.tumblr.com/post/161675468113/slides-into-your-feed-sup-heres-a-nice-scene
> 
> As well as youdidnotseeme, who is as amazing an artist as she is a friend.
> 
> http://youdidnotseeme.tumblr.com/post/159714048621/whispers-cut-off-the-grain-i-have-more-fuel-for
> 
> http://youdidnotseeme.tumblr.com/post/159678065061/whispers-cut-off-the-grain-here-is-a-prototype
> 
> (One of these days I will learn how to link!)
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy!

The hazy, sticky heat of late summer slowly fades into the nippy chill of autumn, the trees stubbornly clinging to green until, in a change that seems overnight, they explode in a vibrant display of oranges and reds. Previously Kylo has always dreaded the steady march of cool weather, but for the first time she relishes it, savors the cold breeze that sometimes kicks up and cuts through even the chunky knit of her sweater because it means when she looks at the colorful leaves she can try to find one that imitates the same shade as Hux’s hair. With the added motivation that she may see Hux she finds it easier to get up on time and occasionally, when she passes by the library, Hux is standing outside, smoking her cigarette, what Kylo has learned is the only one she will allow herself all day, and the frosty air has bloomed a pretty rose on Hux’s cheeks, the only thing that softens the sharpness of her cheekbones.

 

Kylo comes to appreciate the necessity of bulky fall clothes. While her critical eye has always thought they added too much extra padding, didn’t disguise the swell of her belly but instead accentuated it while the extra fabric hung loose around her chest, Hux seems to appreciate it, the way it softens her figure, and often sneaks her now perpetually chilly hands under the layers to warm them. 

 

The first time she showed up at the library with a scarf tossed haphazardly around her neck Hux’s gaze had glinted with a wicked heat and when she drove Kylo home that night she had a trail of deep purple bruises bitten into the pale column of her neck and for the next three days every time she turned her head they twinged and ached and she had studied them every morning, despairing when they started to fade, the indigo giving way to a sickly yellow. 

 

The start of November had found her in a sour mood, a stack of applications for graduate schools slowly growing to overtake her desk while she worried about which professors to ask for recommendation letters and her stomach twisted into knots while she worried about scholarships and grants and tried to calculate exactly how much she could stretch the small inheritance her grandfather had left her, already dwindled by her schooling. 

 

It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when she stomps across a mostly deserted campus, dead leaves stripped of their bright colors crunching beneath her boots. When she goes inside she’s met with a balmy blast of air, a sharp contrast to the biting wind outside. She stalks across the lobby, tosses a quick glance to the frosted window of Hux’s office door where she can just make out the blurry silhouette of Hux at her desk.

 

She walks to her usual table, the mid-afternoon sun dipped low casting it in a rosy glow as she settles. She plonks her bag down at her side and digs out the dense text she needs to slog through fifty pages of before classes resume the following Monday. An entire week with no classes has left her riled and unsettled, jarred from her routine, and cranky. Stress over school and budget has kept her from sleeping and she hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of guilt that settled on her shoulders the first time she ignored a call from her parents and has only increased with every unanswered voicemail since. 

 

She’s seven pages in when she blinks and realizes she hasn’t retained a single word of the text. A quick glance at the previous pages slashed through with her highlighter proves she’s read them, but the words have slipped entirely from her mind. Kylo tosses her highlighter aside with disgust and watches it roll off the table, stretches her arms over her head to roll her stiff shoulders when she finally notices Hux propped against a shelf of books, arms crossed in front of her while she watches Kylo.

 

Immediately she blushes, ducks her head to escape Hux’s sharp gaze. “Sorry,” she blurts. “I- I didn’t see you there! I’ll pick it up!” She moves to climb out of her chair but Hux steps forward, bends with a graceful arc of her spine and plucks the marker off the floor then hands it to Kylo without a word. “Thanks,” she mutters as she takes it, fingers grazing. 

 

“Is everything okay?” Hux asks, and touches the back of her fingers to Kylo’s cheeks. “You seem distracted.”

 

“Yeah,” she croaks, throat gone desert dry at the soft graze of Hux’s hand. “Yeah, sorry. Just stressed.”

 

Hux arches an eyebrow. “You’re on break. What do you have to be stressed about?”

 

Kylo heaves a sigh and flops herself back in her chair, scrubs her fingers through her wild curls. “Applying for grad school. A family who spent my entire life telling me I was a screw up and now wonders why I don’t return their phone calls.” She points an accusing finger at the book, still open on the desk. “Required reading from a book so boring it should qualify as a torture device.”

 

Hux snorts a laugh, the bridge of her nose wrinkling in amusement “Windu’s  _ Conflict at Geonosis _ ?” She asks, fingers skimming the pages as she shakes her head. “I admit, it does takes a certain talent to make one of the most blood soaked battles in history sound boring.” Hux turns away from the book and faces Kylo again. She reaches out, scratches her fingers through Kylo’s hair until she moans and tips forward, face tucked against the soft sweater covering Hux’s stomach. 

 

She floats on the attention, the soothing press of Hux’s short nails along her scalp slowly making their way downward. Hux presses her thumbs into the base of Kylo’s neck, digging into knots of muscle twisted tight, making her whimper. “My good girl,” Hux whispers to her. “You just need someone to look after you, don’t you?” Kylo whines, high and needy, and Hux stretches forward and gently rakes her nails down the curve of her spine, a gentle pressure that lights the nerves in her skin, a burning path she feels even through her sweater.

 

She makes a noise of protest when Hux pulls her hands away but Hux smacks her cheek gently, not enough to hurt, to sting, to mark, but enough to remind her that Hux  _ could.  _ “None of that now,” Hux scolds as she slides her hand down and cradles the soft slope of Kylo’s jaw, tilts her face up. 

 

“Sorry,” she mutters, and Hux ducks to give her temple a quick kiss and she knows she’s forgiven, feels a rush of warmth at the thought that Hux has always forgiven her her infractions and screw ups.

 

She arches to follow when Hux pulls away but a hand on her shoulder keeps her in the chair. “Greedy girl,” Hux accuses, but softens the words with another brush of her lips. “Come on,” she says and shuts Kylo’s book, tucks it under her arm.

 

They walk out of the stacks side by side, strides evenly matched as their arms sometimes brush and even through their layers Kylo swears she can feel the burning heat of Hux’s skin. She hesitates to follow Hux when she walks behind the service counter until Hux glances over her shoulder at Kylo.

 

“Mitaka,” Hux calls to the man staring boggle-eyed at them as she leads Kylo toward her office door. “See that I’m not disturbed.” His startled agreement is lost as Hux guides her inside and pulls the door closed.

 

The room is beige and bland, the only splash of color Hux herself and a shelf of books as she walks to her desk. The desk itself is sleek and modern, a polished black which almost hides the fact that it was cheaply made and mass produced, the chair Hux settles herself in the exact same as every professor at the University has in their office, only remarkable because Hux is in it. 

 

“Take a seat,” Hux directs as she drops the book on her desk and turns to face her computer. Kylo looks around, confused by the lack of chairs, before Hux clears her throat and nods at the empty space beside her chair. As realization dawns her face heats, a blush that she knows will creep all the way down to her chest. Despite the embarrassment at sitting on the ground, at Hux’s side like a loyal pet, the thought of refusing seems impossible, so she swallows her nervousness and curls her fingers in the hem of her shirt to keep them still as she walks over and lowers herself to the ground.

 

Hux hands the book to her without looking and she murmurs a soft thanks, opens it and tries to settle, slip into the text and ignore the hard ground beneath her, the coldness of the floor seeping through her and making her butt slowly go numb. She shifts to try and find a more comfortable position, squirms again moments later when it only makes it worse. She’s reread the same sentence multiple times, keeps losing the thread of it partway through and forced to go back to the beginning.

 

“Sit still,” Hux commands, exasperation in her voice when Kylo shifts again. But before she can protest-  _ she’s trying! _ \- Hux’s hand lands on her head and guides her to lean back, Hux’s leg a warm column of heat along her back and her head tilts to rest on Hux’s knee, the fabric of her trousers a gentle scratch against her cheek as she inhales the earthy scent of the wool. Kylo scoots herself father back just a little, enough her spine isn’t arched into a painful bend, and slowly eases her weight against Hux’s leg. 

 

Hux’s hand stays in her hair, smooths over the ratty curls and pulls it back off her face. Kylo sighs as those short nails drag along her scalp, Hux’s fingers scrunching into her hair before they trail back up to her temple and repeat the process. With Hux’s fingers in her hair a soothing reminder that Hux’s isn’t ignoring her, that she remains on the edges of Hux’s awareness, it’s easy to slide into the words on the page, to follow the words and jump from one page to the next while she’s warmed by the affection in Hux’s touch. Sound fades into the background, the clack of the keyboard, slowed by Hux’s use of only one hand, the hum of the heating system, the creak of the chair when Hux stretches to reach something on the edge of her desk, careful to never move the leg Kylo is supported by. 

 

Kylo doesn’t notice the slanting of sunlight across the floor, the soft whirring as Hux powers down her computer, her world stripped to a hand in her hair and text on paper.

 

It’s a shrill, piercing melody, mechanical and musical both, that jars her from the gentle space she’s slipped into, knocking her back to reality, and she lets out a sob at the sudden onslaught of sensation, faded into near nothingness and now slamming back into her with too much force. Her back cries in protest at the prolonged stretch, the prickle of sweat unpleasant as it slides stickly down the back of her neck from the overeager heater making the room suddenly unbearably hot. She knocks her book off her lap and onto the ground, twists her face to bury it in the bend of Hux’s knee and lets out another startled sob, unable to find the words to ask Hux to make it stop. 

 

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s alright,” Hux soothes, her hand leaving Kylo’s hair to pet her cheek as she keeps talking, words that hold no meaning to Kylo except that their even cadence gives her scrambled mind something to seek out and cling to, a steadying thread her scattered thoughts can follow. Finally the loud, jangling noise quits. “It’s okay,” Hux says again, thumb rubbing back and forth on her skin, “it’s alright, sweet girl, deep breaths now.” Kylo draws in a deep breath, feels her lungs expand with it, the slow rise and fall of her shoulders, and when she releases it, slowly, evenly, her senses settle back, the press of the outside world not quite so heavy.

 

She takes a few more breaths, the twisted muscles gone tense in her shoulders relaxing, and gives herself a quiet moment with one cheek nuzzled against Hux’s leg while a slender hand cups the other, the constant chill in Hux’s long fingers a calming touch against her overheated cheek.

 

She lets out a weak laugh, thin and reedy, to cover her embarrassment. “I think that was my phone. I’m sorry. I should, I should probably check it.” She stands, turns her face away so Hux won’t see her face blooming with a flush at being so startled by her own phone, so she won’t have to see whatever disappointment she’s sure is worn on Hux’s elegant features that Kylo has ruined their peaceful moment, that her carelessness has destroyed something nice as it always does.

 

But when she stands Hux’s hands catch around her waist, fingers twisted in the baggy fabric of her sweater and tug her backward until she stumbles, her lost balance tipping her gracelessly into Hux’s lap, Hux’s hands settling her so her legs dangle over the arm of the chair and her face is tucked into the crook of Hux’s neck, nose pressed into the soft patch of skin right below Hux’s ear, where her perfume still clings and the fringe of Hux’s hair brushes the line of her jaw while Hux wraps her slender arms tightly around her.

 

She doesn’t know what to do, stays still and stiff until Hux slides a hand under the hem of her shirt, strokes the flat of her palm down her back and Kylo draws a shuddery breath, a sob snagging in her throat and she grabs handfuls of Hux’s sweater, a wretched little sob making its way out as hot tears gather in her eyes. “My sweet, sweet girl,” Hux murmurs, and Kylo’s shoulders hitch at the words, her entire body shakes as she muffles a cry against Hux’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” Hux tells her, a hand slipping beneath her hair to cradle the back of her neck, “It’s alright, you’re alright,” she reassures, and Kylo shudders with her sobs, tears falling hot and fast as the frustration of the past few weeks that has kept her insides twisted in worried knots finally rushes out of her, the comforting weight of Hux’s hold letting her know she’s safe to cry and sob until she feels better, until all the negative emotions, all the heavy, bitter thoughts she’s carried with her, are finally,  _ finally  _ released. 

 

When her tears finally stop dripping her head aches and her throat is raw and Hux’s shoulder is soggy with her tears. She finally pulls back, ducks her head so the curtain of her hair covers her blotchy face, her puffy eyes. Her skin itches with the drying salt of her tears and she sniffles as she tries to find a tissue to wipe her nose with. Seeing none she tries to discreetly wipe it on the cuff of her sleeve, hopes Hux won’t see the slimy smear and think it’s gross. Hux seems content to give her a moment to collect herself but when she doesn’t turn back to face her after several minutes Hux turns Kylo with a hand to her cheek, pulls her closes and kisses her forehead, presses her lips petal soft to the corner of her eye, her flushed cheeks, before finally catching her lips, salt stained and dry, in a soft kiss. 

 

Kylo melts into the soft touch, into the gentle brush of lips the prove even when her nose is still stuffy and her face is red and her mouth is disgusting, crusted with tears and snot, Hux won’t hesitate to kiss her better.

 

“Thank you,” she sighs when Hux pulls back, their foreheads touching.

 

“Better?” Hux asks, voice soft.

 

She nods. “Yes. Better.” They don’t say anything else for long minutes and Kylo’s eyes close as she relishes the feeling of being settled in her skin, the worries that seemed so pressing before less important with the feel of Hux’s body against hers. When she opens her eyes Hux is studying her, emerald eyes soft with what Kylo thinks may be fondness. Their noses bump as Hux steals a final quick kiss, a curl at the corner of her mouth so small Kylo would’ve missed it if they weren’t so close when she pulls back.

 

Hux pats a hand at her hip and she takes the wordless command, climbs out of Hux’s lap and onto legs gone partially numb. When Hux follows her out of the chair she stands with a groan, presses a fist into the small of her back and stretches, a pleased little noise caught just behind her ruby red lips as she straightens. 

 

For the first time Kylo is hit with the thought that she wonders who takes care of Hux, if she has anyone in her life who holds her when she needs to cry and rubs aches from her muscles. A white hot flash of jealousy stabs through her at the thought of someone touching Hux likes Hux touches her but she pushes it aside when Hux tosses her a small smile. Maybe, she thinks, if she shows Hux that she’s strong enough, she could be that person. She promises herself, words she knows she’ll carry close to her heart, that if Hux will let her, she’ll find a way to give her what she needs. 

 

“Drive you home?” Hux offers needlessly, as though she hasn’t driven Kylo home after every evening they’ve spent together. As though Kylo would ever turn down the chance to spend more time with Hux, the heater in Hux’s car doing less to warm her than the hand Hux always settles on her thigh. 

 

“Thank you,” she says with a nod, and bends to pick up her book, still discarded on the floor, before she heads to the bag she dropped right inside the door as Hux puts her already immaculate desk in order. 

 

Mitaka is still at the circulation desk when they leave the office and he quickly looks away to hide the shocked look on his face. Kylo can imagine what he must be thinking, and knows it’s both less and more than the actual truth. As they pass behind the desk, Hux’s hand low on Kylo’s back, Hux asks him to be sure and lock up, bids him goodnight and wishes him a happy Thanksgiving, a farewell he stutters back. 

 

It’s only when they’re in Hux’s car, the heater cranked up even though it’s still too soon for it to do much, that Kylo even remembers her phone. She digs it out of her bag, dread trying to settle on her heart because she already knows who the call was from, but Hux’s presence wards it away. She sighs when she confirms her suspicions and shoves the phone back into her bag where she can ignore it a little longer.

 

Hux shots her a questioning glance but doesn’t say anything, leaving her to start the conversation if she wants. It’s that freedom, Hux’s clear invitation to talk but not push, that allows her to speak. “My mom,” she explains. “Ever since I told them I wasn’t going to come home for Thanksgiving she’s been calling a lot.” 

 

“I’m having dinner with my father and his wife tomorrow,” Hux says, the words neutral and measured. “It’s the first time since Thanksgiving dinner last year I’ll see them.” She pauses. “We do e-mail. Occasionally.”

 

“You don’t get along with your family?” Kylo tentatively settles her hand on top of Hux’s, resting on her leg, and when Hux turns her hand over and laces their fingers together she has to look out the window so Hux doesn’t see her blush.

 

“We do best with limited contact.”

 

“Then why go at all?” Kylo squeezes Hux’s hand briefly, hopes Hux takes it as the apology for prying it is.

 

Hux sighs, but casts her an understanding look. “They aren’t awful. Just...cold. My father had certain expectations for me that I failed to live up to. But, for good or ill, I am who I am because of them. It took some time, we didn’t speak for a few years, but I decided that if I could take them or leave them, maybe I should err on the side of taking them.” Hux shrugs a shoulder. “Just a thought.”

 

“I can't imagine anyone being disappointed in you,” she says. “I mean, look at you! You’re practically perfect!” The thought of anyone being less than proud of Hux boggles her mind.

 

Hux shakes her head, the ends of her fiery hair grazing her jaw in a way Kylo can’t bring herself to look away from. “That’s sweet of you. But I assure, I’m far from perfect.”

 

“You must think I’m pathetic. Sitting here, whining about my parents like I'm back in high school.”

 

“No,” Hux reassures as she smoothly rolls the car to a stop at a light. She glances up, makes sure the light is red and leans over, drops a sloppy kiss to the side of Kylo’s head, where her ear is hidden beneath her curls. “I don’t think that at all.”

 

They’re only a couple blocks from Kylo’s building and they drop the family talk for lighter conversation about what assignments Kylo will have waiting for her when class resumes next week. There aren’t any spots available for Hux to pull into so she leave the engine idling as she stops in the street for Kylo to get out. 

 

When Kylo opens the door Hux tightens the hold on her hand one final time before dropping it. “Miss Ren,” she starts, then stops. “Kylo. I won’t push, it’s none of my business, but if you truly didn’t want to talk to your family I don’t think this would bother you so much. It’s okay to miss them.”

 

Her throat seems to close up at Hux’s words, a hit to a scabbed over wound that’s still too raw, and she can only nod. The streets are fairly empty so Hux stays parked as Kylo walks to her door, tosses off a final wave before she drives off and Kylo slips inside. 

 

She walks slowly up the stairs, turning over the image of Hux sitting down to an uncomfortable meal once a year, thinks about that dark, heavy space inside her chest that ached and grew everytime her parents made it clear she wasn’t important enough for them to pay attention to, thinks about how not speaking to them didn’t heal it, how it’s still there, always there, a constant she’s just grown used to. But her time with Hux seems to fill that gap, just a little, stitches up the openings of the wound just enough it might begin to knit itself back together.

 

She wishes Hux was with her when she pulls out her phone, turns it over and over in her hands, but she closes her eyes and remembers the feeling of Hux holding her while she cried, the waft of Hux’s perfume that she could smell even through her stuffed up nose, and finds the strength to bring up her contacts and hit ‘Call.”

 

The phone rings and she wonders if Leia will even answer. It’s the night before Thanksgiving after all, she could very well be at some charity dinner, being photographed with a glass of wine in her hand and an elegant yet understated dress on, Han on her arm with his own glass of whiskey.

 

The phone rings so long when it finally picks up she expects it to be voicemail, waits for the beep, but-

 

“Hello? Is this? Bennie? Kylo? Is that, are you-”

 

“Hi, Leia,” she says, and sits down on her bed, phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder while she runs a hand through her hair. “I know it’s been a while.”

 

____

 

There’s a layer of snow clinging to the dead grass, powdery and sparse, that sticks to her boots as she cuts across the lawn to avoid a group of people blocking the sidewalk. Kylo tries to shrug the sliding strap of her bag back up her shoulder while juggling the two cups clutched in her hands, the very tips of her fingers gone numb from the combination of heat from the mug warring with the bitter cold air.  

 

She practically bounces up the steps to the library, careful of any icy patches, but when she gets to the door she realizes she lacks a hand to open it. A quick glance back shows her someone else is slowly climbing up behind her so she bounces on her toes as she waits for them. The boy casts her a wary look, her giddiness out of place during the bleak winter, but holds the door so she can duck inside anyway.

 

Hux isn’t at the circulation desk and neither is Mitaka, instead some sandy haired boy who looks too young to even be on a college campus is manning the computer, checking out students bundled up tight in their winter coats. She keeps on walking, Hux will find her, to her usual table. When it was still warm there were a few times she had discovered it already occupied and had to skulk around until the table thief left, but being nestled against an exterior wall means her table always seems to be a few degrees colder than all the others, and ever since the temperature dropped it’s been free for her every time.

 

She settles and cracks open a book, for pleasure for once. It doesn’t take long for the telltale click of Hux’s heels to announce her. Kylo smiles and holds out one of the cups. Hux takes it with a wary look, brings it up to her lips and pauses as she breathes deep the fragrant steam.

 

When winter first came there were times where Hux kissed her and a flavor, floral and sweet, had lingered on her lips, barely noticeable over the waxy taste of her lipstick. Kylo had noted it, another reason Hux’s kisses were so addictive, but a few weeks ago she had ducked into the campus coffee shop, desperate for a jolt of caffeine to carry her through her last class, and had immediately recognized the floral, herbal smell hanging in the air. Hux blows gently on the drink and takes a small sip, hums in pleasure and follows with a bigger mouthful.

 

“My favorite,” Hux tells her with a smile. “Thank you.”

 

Kylo grins and taps the edge of her cup against Hux’s in a toast. “I’m celebrating,” she announces. “Sorry I couldn’t afford campagne.”

 

“I wouldn’t have allowed you to bring it around the books anyway.” Hux sits down in a chair, rolling the cup between her palms to absorb some of the heat. “What are we celebrating?”

 

“I completed all my applications for grad school last night.” Kylo lets herself feel the flush of accomplishment, looks at Hux because she wants Hux to praise her, to tell her how well she’s doing and how proud of her Hux is, but when she glances over Hux’s mouth is twisted in a small frown, a crease settled on her forehead. “Hey,” she says softly, and tentatively lays a hand on Hux’s arm. The brush of contact seems to startle Hux and she jerks, tea sloshing inside the cup. “I’m sorry,” she offers when Hux looks at her. “Is everything okay?”

 

Hux gives a short little shake of her head and takes another mouthful of her tea. It seems to knock her out of whatever haze she was lost in and when she smiles at Kylo it seems genuine. “That’s wonderful news,” Hux says, leaning over to plant a kiss on Kylo’s cheek.

 

“Thanks,” she says, and tells herself it’s ridiculous to blush just because Hux kissed her cheek considering all they’ve done but she feels the heat bloom across her face anyway. “Obviously First Order is my first choice, but Outer Rim is only-”

 

“You want to stay at FO?” Hux interrupts her, her hand suddenly clenching onto Kylo’s sleeve.

 

“Of course,” she responds. “Why wouldn’t I? I love,” she stumbles over the word, feels it stick in her throat and trip on her tongue, “love it here,” she finishes lamely. She doesn’t look at Hux and busies herself with her drink, fiddles with the lid so she doesn’t risk saying any more words that are too much, too close to something that isn’t a truth yet but could be. 

 

They sit in silence for a moment until Hux abruptly catches a hand in the folds of Kylo’s scarf and hauls her close, teeth nipping into Kylo’s lower lip and making her moan, a hand fisting into her dark curls while Kylo scrambles for purchase on Hux’s shoulders. She licks the flavor of herbal tea from Hux’s mouth, drifts a hand down to cup the gentle weight of Hux’s breast. Hux pushes her back with the hand still tangled in Kylo’s scarf, takes a deep, panting breath that makes Kylo’s heart swell with pride. “Hands to yourself, Miss Ren,” Hux half snarls and half scolds, but the heaving of her chest softens the sting of the words. 

 

Hux stands and tugs on the scarf, a gentle pressure against Kylo’s windpipe that only makes her breath hitch. She considers the cups still on the table and her attention is jerked away when Hux tugs on the scarf again. “Leave them,” she demands, and takes a step backward, Kylo pulled along by the scarf leashed around her neck and the undeniable magnetic pull Hux has on her body. 

 

The lobby of the library is filled with students struggling to study and finish assignments in the two weeks remaining before Christmas break. They attract quite a few stares but Hux doesn’t pause, doesn’t slow down or drop the scarf or quit staring at Kylo with the heat of banked coal in her eyes as she walks them down the hallway and to the storage room. Hux seems reluctant to let go of Kylo’s scarf, as if Kylo could imagine not following.

 

Hux actually growls when the doorknob slips in her hand until she finally pushes it open and shoves Kylo inside. She kicks the door closed and presses Kylo up against it, her slim body an unexpectedly solid weight pinning Kylo against the door as Hux devours her mouth. 

 

Hux slips a slim thigh between her legs and Kylo grinds down against it, shivers at the pressure on her cunt, the slip of fabric over her clit. She’s already wet down her thighs, the sticky cling of her tights making her shiver when the air hits the dampness. But she doesn’t think it’s chills that makes her shiver, that makes her skin prickle and pull tight with gooseflesh. Hux devours her mouth, sharp teeth and a squirming tongue and Kylo can feel the slick smear of lipstick transferring to her lips in patchy, incriminating spots as she rubs against Hux’s leg. 

 

Hux pulls away, both of them panting hot air between them, and pulls Kylo’s head back with a fist in her hair so Hux can latch her mouth onto Kylo’s neck, high up, right below the hinge of her jaw, where no sweater or scarf will hide the inky mark. She moans, at the sensation, at the thought of wearing Hux’s mark like a badge, and gives herself over to the arousal hot in her veins, the heat pooling in the pit of her stomach and warming her. Hux finally releases her with a last, lingering graze of teeth and steps back just enough to tug free the scarf Kylo’s wearing, the tails of it already slipping off from the rough handling. 

 

When it’s free Hux tosses it across one of her shoulders, the ratty fabric a stark contrast to the fine cashmere of her own sweater, and brackets Kylo’s head with her palms flat on the door. “Strip,” Hux commands, her tone holding no room for argument. But she doesn’t step back, stays pressed close, scant inches between their bodies. “Now, Miss Ren,” she orders, and Kylo realizes Hux is going to make her fight to obey, make her squirm and struggle with barely enough room for her to fit her hands between them. 

 

She steps on the heel of a boot to wiggle her foot free, kicks it aside and repeats with the other, manages to slide her socks down her ankles with her toes since there’s no room to bend and take them off. Her sweater is trickier. She manages to wiggle her hands between them to grab the hem but it’s a struggle to pull it up. When the fabric is bunched beneath her arms Hux drops her hands and Kylo yanks it over her head with a tug. As soon as it’s off Hux’s hands are back and Kylo gasps at the feeling of Hux rubbing along her bare skin, the heat of her warding away the icy air of the room. 

 

Kylo arches her back, pressing them even tighter together, as she tries to fit a hand against her and the door to undo the clasp of her bra. She sighs when the hooks give, her arm twinging in protest at the twist, and lets the straps fall freely off her shoulders and down her arms. Hux’s drops her hands and cups Kylo’s breasts, rests the weight of them in her palms, squeezes them gently then plucks at the dusky skin of the nipple on one until it peaks, causing Kylo to gasps. She shudders at the touch and Hux smiles, feels the tremor skitter along Kylo’s body where they’re pressed close. 

 

Hux bends down and hovers over Kylo’s breast, licks her lips so they glisten and Kylo tenses, her muscles tightening in anticipation of Hux’s mouth on her nipple, sucking on the sensitive bud until it straddles pleasure and pain, but instead she purses her lips and blows gently, a warm gust of breath that makes Kylo’s skin prickle.

 

“Tease,” she tries to say, but it’s barely a breath. Hux laughs, low and warm, and kisses her, sweet and smooth like melting dark chocolate. She wraps her hands around Hux’s waist and, feeling daring, rucks up the bottom of Hux’s sweater and dips her fingers past the waistband of Hux’s trousers. The tips of her fingers brush against smooth silk, the fine material warmed from Hux’s body, and she groans, pictures Hux in panties, the edges cupping the firm, pert mounds of her ass, a waistband slung low on her hips. 

 

She’s knocked from her fantasy by Hux’s pulling her hand away, fingers grinding the bones of her wrists against each other in a way that probably shouldn’t make her pussy ache. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself I’ll tie them together.”

 

Kylo moans at the thought. She’s put herself in Hux’s hands before but she’s always been free to leave, never forced to stay by anything other than Hux’s firm words and her own desires. She trusts Hux, knows she’ll stop the second Kylo tells her too, but the thought of being restrained, helpless against Hux’s will, makes her entire body feel overheated.

 

Hux smacks a hand against her hip, the impact of her palm softened by the leggings she has yet to take off. “Finish undressing, then hands behind your back.” Hux steps back then, gives Kylo room to fold the waist of her leggings down, a creased, red line cutting across the curve of her belly from where the elastic dug in, and rolls them down her legs, shuffles her panties off until they’re pooling at her ankles and steps out.

 

Hux is neatening her hair, smoothing tangles and tucking it back behind her ear when Kylo stands up and turns to her. “Good girl,” Hux praises, and the pride in her voice makes Kylo stand up a little straighter. “Hands behind your back,” Hux says, and she slowly grabs Kylo’s scarf still slung over her shoulder. Kylo’s eyes widen when she realizes Hux means to bind her with her own scarf, pulse kicking in her neck. The ratty scrap of fabric, faded from black to a nondescript gray from too many washings, is one of her favorites, any scratchiness from the cheap fabric worn away, and everytime she puts it on she’ll remember standing bare before Hux, Hux’s eyes heavy on her, waiting for her to obey as she holds her hands behind her.

 

Hux moves behind her, runs her hands down the length of Kylo’s arms to her wrists. “Such a good girl for me,” she whispers, the words ruffling Kylo’s curls as she starts to wrap the scarf around Kylo’s wrists. She binds them together, ties a firm knot, and when she drops the ends the fabric trails down and tickles the back of Kylo’s legs. The knot is unwieldy due to the thick fabric, and it digs into the small of her back uncomfortably, the strain in her shoulders already flaring hot, but her breath quickens anyway, short, sharp little pants all she can manage. 

 

“On your knees.”

 

She staggers when Hux steps back, balance thrown from the strange posture with no hands to help steady her. Hux takes pity on her though, her hands landing on Kylo’s waist while she finds her footing, staying there, a grounding touch, as she lowers herself to one knee then both. Hux follows her down, kneeling behind her, hands roaming over her chest and stomach, teasing her nipples, nails gently raking down her sternum but stopping at the top of the tangled vee of hair between her legs. 

 

Her hands flex with every touch that turns ticklish, the muscles in her arms twitching with the suppressed urge to grab Hux, to reach up and force her hand between Kylo’s legs, to the burning core of her, dripping wet with desire. She shifts, shuffles her legs just a little farther apart when Hux’s hand drifts a feather light touch on the sensitive crease of her thigh, whines when the hand moves away from when she most wants it. She’s so sensitized even the shift of air currents feels like a teasing touch on her clit, hips trying to slide forward.

 

Hux laughs, a low chuckle that she feels vibrate in Hux’s chest, slotted up against her back. A warm touch to her arms and one of Hux’s hands are in hers, fingers dancing across her palms, stroking her curling fingers. Hux slides a finger between Kylo’s wrists and the scarf, fits a second one under. “How does this feel? Too tight?”

 

Hux’s question is straightforward, the no nonsense tone of voice Kylo has come to recognize means she better pay attention, that Hux isn’t playing and not listening won’t get her punished, it will bring things to a halt. She takes a breath, takes another when the first still doesn’t seem like enough.

 

“No. No, it’s fine. Not too tight.” She can’t see Hux nod but she can sense it, the swing of her hair brushing Kylo’s neck. Her fingers slide out from beneath the scarf and trail down Kylo’s palms again, rub the pads of her fingers against Kylo’s own. 

 

“Good. If it get too tight tell me. If you’re fingers start to go numb or cold tell me. Understand?” Kylo curls her fingers, slots them with Hux’s for just a moment.

 

“Yes. I understand.”

 

“Good.” Hux moves away, stands up leaving her back suddenly exposed to the cold and her fingers flex as though the small movement could keep Hux in place. Hux steps in front of her, crosses her arms and looks down at Kylo, shivering and panting, lost to the fire of want burning in her veins. Hux raises a foot and plants it on Kylo’s chest, right between her breasts, and applies the slightest pressure. “On your back,” she says, and gives a final push with her foot before dropping it back to the ground. 

 

Kylo takes a moment to force muscles gone numb to move. She first tries to lean back but her thighs protest the stretch and finally settles on flopping gracelessly onto her side and then rolling onto her back. The bulky knot and her hands force her to arch her back, a bend that she can tell will get painful quickly that leaves her unbalanced, forced to place her feet flat on the ground, knees bent, to keep her steady. She closes her eyes, tries not to watch Hux watch her while a little voice echoes in her head, reminding her that her belly is pushed out, rounded more than usual, her breasts sagging and flattened against her ribs by gravity. 

 

She’s trying so hard to ignore her insecurities that she startles at a cool touch to her thigh. At first she thinks it’s the chill of Hux’s fingers, but the firm touch sweeps up her leg, too smooth and quickly warmed by her overheated skin to be fingers, and when she opens her eyes Hux is planted between her legs, the toe of her shoe dragging along Kylo’s leg. She whimpers at the drag of the calfskin when it nudges at the fold of her thigh, catches gently on the crease of skin before Hux slides it over, the leather a teasing touch as it grazes across the folds of her labia. 

 

Kylo cries out when the toe taps against her clit, trails off into a moan when Hux rubs the rounded toe against the swollen nub. “Please!” She gasps, voice tight and raw, and tries to shift her hips, rub down to get more pressure while not toppling over. “Please, please, Hux, ma’am, please.”

 

Hux tsks at her and she almost sobs when she pulls her foot away. “So needy,” Hux accuses her. “Desperate. Dripping wet and positively  _ begging. _ ” Kylo squeezes her eyes shut, feels a burning flush at the words overtake her face but there’s something else, something she can’t quite believe, in the words, something like fondness, affection. 

 

There’s a rustle of fabric and a small  _ thunk _ as Hux kneels and she jolts at a wet kiss to the bend of her knee, arches up so her weight is resting on her shoulder blades while Hux runs a hand down her quivering leg. “My sweet, sweet girl,” Hux whispers before she drops another kiss on Kylo’s leg. This time she bites, sinks teeth into the meaty give of Kylo’s thigh, a steady pressure that doesn’t break the skin but when she releases her mouthful Kylo can already feel the blood pooling beneath the surface, a bright, throbbing point of pain when the entire rest of her body is awash with pleasure.

 

Hux leaves a scattered trail of kisses up Kylo’s thigh, her hands burning brands on Kylo’s hips that keep her from thrusting or shifting, forced to lay still and take panting, ragged breaths that still leave her lungs tight with not enough air. A single, quick kiss to her pubic mound, barely felt through the nest of coarse hair, knocks the air from her, anticipation coiling tight in her muscles as hot air cools the moisture slicking her cunt.

 

She opens her mouth, to beg, to plead, to sob and cry and whine, but all the comes out is a choked sob when Hux’s tongue drags along her clit. 

 

Another careful touch of Hux’s tongue, so rough along the sensitive little gland, and then Hux mouth is on her, lips soft against her while Hux sucks on the little nub.

 

She tries to shift her hips but Hux holds her tight, her fingers curl uselessly in the carpet like she wants to curl them in Hux’s hair, hold her still so Kylo can grind down on her wicked mouth and finally get the pressure her body is crying out for. Her shoulders hurt with the scratch of the carpet when she squirms, a chafing burn from the floor already turning them an angry red that will stay there for days. 

 

Tears slip hot down her cheeks when Hux’s tongue fucks up inside her, wiggles past the lips of her labia and into the damp heat of her, licks a strip to collect the slick clinging to her and slips inside her again, rubs along the slit of her pussy with wet, messy sounds. 

 

“Please,” she sobs again, the words watery with tears. “I need, I need to-” she’s cut off with her own strangled scream when Hux pulls back, her eyes burning with more tears at the thought of being denied, of this crawling need right beneath her skin not being released, but Hux’s mouth slides damply back over her clit and two long fingers tuck inside her, curling up and rubbing right when Hux barely grazes her teeth against Kylo’s pulsing, aching clit.

 

Her muscles pull tight, wound with need, and she sobs, so very, very close, afraid for one moment her own body will deny her the release, that she’ll be stuck coiled and tense, and then Hux’s fingers press more firmly against her and she comes, muscles tensing and loosening like ripples, waves of pleasure washing over her as the walls of her pussy clench tight on Hux’s fingers.

 

She shudders through a final crest of pleasure, muscles melting into laxness, but Hux doesn’t pull away. Her fingers wiggle inside the tight clutch of Kylo’s body, movements eased by the wetness slicking her, and her mouth works at Kylo’s clit, gentle suking pressure that swells it with blood. Her breath hitches, soft little sounds with every sucked down inhale of air.

 

Her arousal ratchets higher, pulse kicking in her neck and sweat dampening her hair, trickling down her neck and making her chest glisten even in the dim light. It doesn’t take long before she’s teetering on the edge again, legs pressed to Hux’s shoulders while the muscles jump and twitch. She’s gasping, unable to stay still, when Hux finally moves the arm braced over her hip. She bucks up at the sudden freedom, cunt pressed into Hux’s face and Hux’s reaches up, visciously twists her nipple and she’s sent toppling, body thrumming with her orgasm as she arches, shoulders dragging and her head knocking onto the ground as her hips drive down, searching for pressure.

 

As she calms Hux kisses over the swell of her belly, crawls over her to lie with her head on Kylo’s chest, cushioned on the softness of her breast, body a warm blanket as sweat slowly cools on her skin. She doesn’t say anything, lets Hux’s kiss the nearby skin on her chest, savors the feel of Hux’s body even though the weight of her makes her stretched shoulders ache even more. 

 

As the sharp haze of pleasure fades, replaced with a blooming warmth of contentment, the pull of her shoulders becomes unignorable. She groans and rocks, trying to ease the pressure, and Hux rolls off her, slips a hand behind her and helps raise her to sit. 

 

Hux quickly loosens the scarf and holds onto Kylo’s wrists, guides her to hold her arms above her head. She hisses at the pull, and Hux kisses the curve of her shoulder, lips brushing over the raw skin of the rug burn with a fluttering touch even as Hux’s fingers rub her palms. “Shh,” she whispers, gentle, “I know it hurts, but this’ll help. Can you keep them up on your own? Just for a bit?”

 

She considers, wiggles her fingers. Her arms feel heavy, tingling as the blood returns, but the stretch eases the muscles pulled tight across her upper back. “Yeah,” she agrees, and Hux lets go, brings her hands down to rest at the base of her neck and digs her thumbs right into the base of her skull, the pressure she didn’t even realize was building there dissipating under the gentle assault. 

 

Hux’s fingers rub the knots from her shoulders, her neck. Her arms are trembling with the effort of staying up when Hux finally pats her side. “That’s good. You can lower them.” She drops them down with a relieved sigh and when Hux wraps arms around her she leans back against her, lets the steady rise and fall of Hux’s breathing relax her. 

 

A stray thought startles a laugh out of her, makes her shoulders shake with her mirth. Hux hums questioningly, nips the lobe of her ear before asking, “Care to share?”

 

She smiles, lets herself relax even more and feels Hux’s hold squeeze her tighter. “I was just thinking, I wonder what you would’ve done if I had told you the rest of my news.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I, well, I’ve been talking to my family, like you suggested.” She takes a deep breath, holds it for a three count then lets it out. “I’m gonna go home for Christmas break. I haven’t been back in three years.”

 

Hux’s hold on her tightens, just a fraction more, but it warms her anyway. “That’s a huge step. I’m proud of you.” A kiss to her shoulder. “Are you happy?”

 

She twists her head and lets Hux catch her in a kiss. “Yes,” she says, breathless. “Yes, I’m very happy.”

 

____

 

The little blue box has sat in her bag for almost two weeks now. It fits perfectly in the palm of her hand, the nap of the velvet a soft drag every time her fingers brush against it, and Kylo knows it will look bigger in Hux’s dainty hand, that the corners of it will hang over the flat of her hand. She’s pulled it out and opened it, shut it with a sharp snap countless times while she tries to work up the courage to give it to Hux.

 

It had been an impulse, although that’s not entirely true. She had been out shopping for gifts, enjoying the feeling of weak winter sun warming her nose and cheeks, carefully avoiding icy patches on the sidewalk and other holiday shoppers as she strolled down the line of shops, glancing in windows while running over her mental list.  _ Leia, Han, Uncle Chewie, Uncle Luke _ …

 

She had added Hux and taken her off innumerable times, spent nights tossing and turning, too hot under blankets but too cold without them to sleep, restless, while she talked herself in and out of buying Hux a Christmas gift, finally coming to a decision only to change her mind when she woke up the next morning. 

 

For one, she wasn’t even sure Hux celebrated Christmas. Hux had never mentioned any particular faith or belief, had never done or said anything to suggest one way or the other, although Kylo knew plenty of people celebrated the holiday as purely secular. The was also the hesitant fear of getting a gift for Hux when Hux hadn’t gotten her anything in return, of betraying the growing depth of her feelings when they weren’t returned, although the thought of seeming ungrateful and uncaring if Hux  _ did  _ get her something and having nothing in return make her stomach twist in queasy knots.

 

Then there was the fact that nothing seemed good enough for Hux. At least nothing her meager budget would allow.

 

She was, once again, contemplating the idea of buying something for Hux when a glimmer in a window caught her distracted eye. She turned even before she fully registered why, an instinctual reflex, and when her eyes focused she was staring at a perfect, sparkling emerald, the exact same verdant green as Hux’s eyes, a shade she had up to then thought exclusive to Hux, carved into a heart and wrapped with silver filigree vines, hanging from a delicate silver chain.

 

The chain was so slim it would almost be lost against the pale skin of Hux’s neck, would fall liquid smooth over the wings of her collarbones. The pendant itself would rest lightly on Hux’s sternum, right below the hollow of her throat and above the scoop of her sweaters. Kylo could picture the curving, organic lines of the setting against Hux’s skin, could imagine the way the green would stand out, an echo of the striking green of her eyes. 

 

The bell on the door jingled to announce her entrance when she stepped inside and the woman at the counter had looked up and hesitated in her greeting, the warm smile falling off her face to be replaced with chilly politeness as she took in Kylo’s ratty clothes, the cheap knit hat smashed down over her curls, the winter jacket hanging open due to a long busted zipper, her black boots smudged dusty grey with salt. 

 

“May I help you?”

 

“Yeah,” she stuttered out, trying not to let the fact that the woman was broadcasting that she thought Kylo was inferior affect her. For Hux she would tolerate some attitude. “The uh, emerald necklace. The one in the window? Can I see it?” She asked as she walked to the counter. The woman made no effort to hide her suspicious studying of Kylo before she turned and walked to the window, lifted the necklace off its display and brought it back to the counter.

 

She draped the chain across her hand, let the pendant rest on the back of her hand instead of laying it down or handing it to Kylo to examine. She wanted to reach up on touch it, feel the glide of the chain through her fingers, but standing next to the saleswoman in her chic black dress, hair smooth and twisted up into a chignon at the base of her neck, she felt every bit the unworthy mess the woman clearly thought she was. 

 

She curled her hands into fists at her side, thought of the way Hux’s fingers felt when they stroked through her hair, and breathed out slowly. “How much is it?”

 

The woman sniffed and named a price that was entirely reasonable for such a piece but that Kylo knew was entirely out of her price range. She bargained with herself for a minute-  _ if she just got Luke and Chewie and Lando cards, she had seen a nice scarf a few doors back, a lovely homespun wool in a deep grey she had been considering for Han, but if she waited maybe it would go on sale closer to Christmas, and that just left Leia, then maybe _ \- before her shoulders slouched in defeat. “Thank you,” she forced herself to say. “It’s a very beautiful piece. I might come back for it,” she lied, and the look the woman gave her said she knew it was a lie, but her face burned at the thought of admitting she couldn’t afford it. 

 

The door had just closed behind her when she stormed back in. She had to buy it, was overcome with the desire to see Hux wear it, to leave a mark on Hux just as Hux leaves marks on her. 

 

She had enough to cover her rent and food. She hadn’t been home in long enough that surely no one would say anything if she didn’t show up with presents, they’d just be thankful she was there. She was a broke college student, so the chances of being given money as a gift was high. It didn’t matter, she’d figure it out later. Wait tables for a couple months, keep the heat in her apartment turned down and just sleep bundled up in layers, and it wouldn’t kill her to skip a couple meals.

 

The woman was placing the necklace back in the window display when she walked it. “I changed my mind. I want it,” she announced, marching up to the counter and digging her well-used bank card out of her bag and slamming it down on the counter.

 

After she had signed the receipt, trying to not feel faint when she looked at the total, the woman had pulled out the rectangular box and gone about situating the necklace in it. She had warmed slightly when Kylo’s card had gone through, apparently deciding Kylo wasn’t quite the deadbeat she had assumed, and attempted some friendly chatter as she boxed up the necklace.

 

“Is this a gift for your mother?” She asked, and Kylo didn’t wince with guilt at the thought that she now wouldn’t be able to afford a gift for Leia. Worth it, it was worth it.

 

“No.” She looked at the woman, at the conservative cut of her dress, her perfectly manicured nails, the line of her make-up, just a shade too dark, where it wasn’t blended into her jaw. This close she could see the wrinkles the foundation had settled into, the touch of grey just at her roots. “It’s a gift for my girlfriend.” 

 

The words didn’t even feel like a lie.

 

The woman’s hands stilled, paused for a brief second as her eyes flicked up to Kylo. “I’m sure she’ll love it,” she finally said, chill back in her words as she dropped the box into a bag. 

 

Kylo snatched the bag out of her hands, twisted her fingers in the handle but found her surge of anger melting away as she spoke. “I hope so. I want it to make her happy.”  _ I want to make her happy. _

 

Her footfalls were lighter as she walked out and even the winter air didn’t feel quite so biting and harsh on her exposed skin.  

 

Now it’s the last day before she goes to her parents, Han is scheduled to make the drive up tomorrow morning to pick her up. Her bag is packed, a pile of mostly black clothes shoved in it yesterday, ready to go. Leia had called her last night to confirm details, always determined to schedule everything as close to the minute as possible. She had paused in the middle of a sentence, and Kylo had wondered what happened, had pulled her phone away to glance at it in case they had been disconnected but saw the call timer was still ticking by. 

 

“Is everything okay?” Kylo had asked after a long pause and Leia had cleared her throat, a tell Kylo recognized from her childhood that meant Leia was going to ask her something and wasn’t sure how it would be received.

 

“I should’ve asked before but, you weren’t planning on bringing anyone, were you?” Kylo had opened her mouth to speak but found she didn’t have any words. She sat down on her bed, glanced guiltily at her school bag where the necklace still resided. 

 

She thought about what it would be like if she brought Hux home with her. Han and Leia would love Hux, she’s sure. Hux was so strong and determined, sure of herself, with a steady career. Kylo had never heard her backtalk anyone, a nasty habit she herself had never quite outgrown, but Hux carried herself with the sure air of someone who expected to be listened to, that she wouldn’t have to repeat herself. What would it be like to have Hux with her when she went to the parties Leia already told her they were invited to, to have Hux beside her, a safe haven she could turn to when the weight of conversation with people she barely knew got to be too much? Would Hux let her steal a kiss under mistletoe? At midnight on New Year’s?

 

“No, Leia, it’s just me.” 

 

“Oh,” and she heard Leia’s voice falter, clearly wanting to ask what had caused Kylo’s voice to dip into sadness but unsure if it would be welcome. “Well, we weren’t sure.  Now,” and her voice returned to it’s usual cheeriness, “did I tell you-” but Kylo was only half listening, digging the necklace out of her bag and tracing a finger over the seam of the box before opening it. She stroked the chain, the emerald, brilliant even in the dim lighting of her apartment, and resolved to give it to Hux. 

 

If Hux couldn’t be with her she could at least leave a small part of herself with Hux.

 

The library is fairly deserted when she walks in, most students having left right after exams, although there are a few still scattered about, seeking refuge from the snow and cold. Hux is at the circulation desk, efficiently tapping away on her computer while checking out a student when she sees Kylo. She smiles, that slow, subtle tilting of her lips that Kylo only notices now because she knows to look for it. 

 

“Miss Ren,” she calls out, just loud enough for Kylo to hear, and she steps forward, hopelessly, magnetically attracted. Perhaps it’s the way the light is hitting her, maybe it’s the bittersweet knowledge weighing on her that she won’t be able to see Hux for the next two weeks, but between one step and the next, when their eyes meet, Kylo’s shocked to stillness, breath knocked from her, by how beautiful Hux is. 

 

_ My girlfriend _ , she told the saleswoman, and the words echo in her mind, hang heavy on her tongue, not true, but oh, how desperately, completely, consumingly does she wish it was. 

 

“I need to finish, then I’ll meet you in my office,” Hux tells her, then her attention slides back to the books the student has on the counter and Kylo finds with Hux’s gaze off of her she’s not pinned.

 

It’s almost uncomfortable being in Hux’s office alone. She’s only been in here once before, when she cried in Hux’s arms, and the memory makes her squirm. What a mess Hux must think her. 

 

The only chair is Hux’s and she can’t bring herself to sit there, would feel like a commoner sitting on the Emperor’s throne until they got caught, so instead she drops her bag on the immaculate desk and wanders around. The walls are a boring beige and there’s not much of interest on them except for a book shelf. She goes to investigate it , tilts her head to better read the titles. They seem to be Hux’s private collection and the shelf is filled with what her untrained eye thinks are mostly first editions. She can only guess how much money they’re all worth and suddenly her present doesn’t seem like enough. If Hux could afford all these surely she could buy any jewelry she wanted herself. 

 

Kylo considers just leaving, slipping out while Hux is preoccupied and saving them both the embarrassment of giving Hux a gift which is nowhere good enough for her, having to watch Hux pretend to like it because Hux may leave her bruised and aching, strip her of her defenses, but she is never so needlessly cruel that her warm arms and soft kisses can’t put Kylo back together when they’re through. 

 

The decision is made for her when the door opens and Hux steps inside. She smiles, a genuine smile, one that folds the rice paper thin skin at the corner of her eyes into soft creases. “I was hoping you’d stop by,” she says as she closes the door. “I have something for you.” 

 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she blurts as Hux opens a drawer on her desk and reaches inside. 

 

Hux pulls something out, drops it on the desk and Kylo sees it’s a card, a festive red envelope. “Come here,” Hux says, but it’s in a softer voice than the one she usually uses for demands and holds out a hand. Kylo walks over and when she’s close enough Hux grabs her hand and reels her in. “Silly girl,” she scolds and kisses Kylo’s temple. Again, lips moving gently. “I wanted to do this for you.” A third, final kiss before Hux steps back and picks up the card, holds it out to Kylo. 

 

Her hands are shaking as she runs a finger under the flap and she almost drops it as she goes to take the card out. She lets the envelope flutter onto the desk, landing face up with a neat  **Kylo** printed on it. The card is a heavy, cream paper, smooth to the touch, obviously bought in the sort of high end boutique she can picture Hux shopping in instead of mass produced. There’s a small watercolor painting of a pine tree on the front, one of a kind. When she opens it the words ‘Happy Holidays’ are printed on the inside in a loopy cursive. And there, the only writing, in Hux’s neat print, are seven numbers. 

 

She traces a finger over the even printing, scared for a half second that the ink will smear but the lines stay crisp and neat. “Is this-” she starts to ask, and when she glances at Hux her head is ducked. “Hux?” She ask, and touches her fingers to her arm. Hux looks up, almost wild in her jerky movement, until she stills. “Is this, is this what I think it is?”

 

“My phone number.”

 

“I’m allowed call you?” Her voice goes high at the end, almost choked with excitement.

 

“Text me. You may text me,” Hux reaches out, tucks loose curls behind Kylo’s ear and cups her chin. “Once a day.” Hux leans forward and kisses her, almost chastely, and when she pulls back Kylo whines. “Someone has to take care of you.”

 

Kylo surges forward, doesn’t let Hux escape, and wraps her in a tight hug, the card clenched in one hand. “Thank you,” she whispers fiercely, and rests her forehead on Hux’s shoulder. It will be two week without seeing Hux but Hux won’t be lost to her, still reachable, and the tight band of anxiety that had settled around her ribs weeks ago eases slightly. She takes a deep breath, what feels like her first one in months, and it’s filled with the scent of Hux.

 

Hux lets Kylo hold her, fingers wound in the fine knit of Hux’s sweater, for as long as she likes. If her neck hadn’t started to ache from being bent she might have stayed that way forever. She ducks in a takes a kiss, Hux’s mouth sweet and wet, sucks on Hux’s lower lip and tries to memorize that faint hint of vanilla from her lipstick, tries to hoard the taste to last her two weeks.

 

It’s with the taste of Hux on her lips, the promise of daily contact with Hux, and her own body still warmed from holding her that Kylo finds the courage to pull out the box.

 

“I have something for you too,” she says as she takes it out of her bag. She wishes she had taken the time to wrap it, but it’s too late now. She shoves the box at Hux, their fingers sliding together as Hux accepts it, and she can’t keep her leg from bouncing, so nervous about Hux’s reaction.

 

Hux opens the lid with a small squeak of the tiny hinges and Kylo suddenly can’t look. “Oh,” Hux says, and Kylo closes her eyes, waits for the rejection.

 

_ -Oh, it’s nice, but not really my style. _

 

_ -Oh, this is the best you could do? _

 

_ -Oh, this is too much. Really, Miss Ren, I think you may have misunderstood where we stand. _

 

But for heavy, long moments there’s only silence and when she forces herself to look up Hux is staring at the open box, a finger gently tapping on the stone, a soft expression on her face. “It’s-” Hux begins, and pauses to swallow. “It’s lovely.” She lifts it out of the box, holds it up so the emerald catches the light, tosses it back in dazzling rainbows. “Thank you,” and the words sound sincere. “Would you help me put it on?”

 

“What, now?” 

 

“Yes, of course.” Hux holds the necklace out until Kylo takes it then sweeps her hair off her neck, holds it bundled to the side and tilts her head forward.

 

Kylo steps close behind her and brushes her fingers along the pale skin of Hux’s neck, hidden from her until now. It’s so soft beneath her fingers, a sparse scattering of fine baby hairs right at the base of it. Daring, bolstered by her success with the present, she whispers a kiss over it. Hux startles at the touch, huffs out a laugh and gently digs her elbow into Kylo’s side to tell her to hurry up. 

 

Kylo loops the chain around Hux’s neck, fingers fiddling with the tiny clasp until it finally opens and she can catch it through the ring. She settles the chain, smooths it along the nape of Hux’s neck, over the graceful fall where Hux’s shoulders meet the long line of her neck. Hux releases her hair, gives a quick toss of her head to swing it back into place. She turns to face Kylo, one hand tugging gently on the pendant to make sure it hangs straight before she’s satisfied. 

 

“What do you think?”

 

“You’re beautiful,” Kylo responds without thinking and ducks her head to hide the embarrassed flush. When she glances back up Hux’s lips are slightly parted and Kylo swears there’s the faintest rosy tinge dusting across the apples of her cheeks. The necklace hits exactly where she thought it would, just a couple inches above the neckline of Hux’s sweater. The dazzling green highlights the porcelain paleness of her skin and it perfectly echoes the sharp green of her eyes. Her mouth waters as she follows the point of it downward, to the ribbed scoop of the neck that just barely hints at Hux’s breasts, small, perfect swells that her sweater hugs without stretching. She swallows.  “Do you really like it? You’re not just being nice?”

 

“It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you.” Hux pulls her in, kisses her so sweetly and tenderly it makes her knees tremble. “I should drive you home. You leave tomorrow, yes?”

 

She nods, brain still as wobbly as her legs from the kiss, unable to find words. 

 

When they exit the library fat, wet snowflakes are falling. Hux grumbles, adjusts the knot of her scarf so it covers her neck even more but Kylo’s eyes catch the way her fingers press against the fabric, feeling the bump of the necklace through it. The flakes stick in Hux’s hair and the starlight catches on them before they melt, makes them dazzle like diamonds as they walk.

 

They walk side by side, strides evenly matched even as they step around puddles and slick spots. She keeps a sharp eye on Hux, concerned about her stilettos on ice, but her steps are nothing but confident and surefooted, the thin layer of frost coating the sidewalk occasionally cracking under the pressure of a heel. 

 

There aren’t a lot of people around and the few that are have their heads ducked to fight the cold. To everyone else they’re nobodies, strangers, and so, emboldened, she grasps Hux’s hand and slots their fingers together. Hux’s steps stutter at the contact and she glances to their entwined hands. “Careful, Miss Ren,” she warns, but there’s no venom to the words and she doesn’t let go until she needs to get her car keys.

 

When they’re out of the garage, driving through familiar streets with the steady squeal of the wipers against the windshield as background noise Kylo pulls the card out and her phones. She taps away at it, the clicking of the keys loud in the car, until the number is safely saved in her contacts. She presses a few more buttons then tucks it away.

 

There’s a muffles  _ ding  _ from the pocket of Hux’s coat and she casts a disbelieving, exasperated look at Kylo. “Did you just text me, Miss Ren? I’m right next to you.”

 

Kylo hides her smile in the folds of her scarf. “You said I could text you once a day,” she retorts confidently, if playfully. 

 

Hux shakes her head, fond. “I suppose I did.”

 

Hux’s phone remains in her pocket for the drive. She lets Kylo out with a slow, lingering kiss, touches their foreheads together. “Be well, Kylo. Merry Christmas.”

 

“Merry Christmas,” she parrots back, the words  _ I’ll miss you  _ unsaid. It’s been a constant ache, as though she’s already mourning the broken contact with Hux even before leaving, but it’s eased now, with the promise that she can still have Hux with her, never far away despite the miles. 

 

When she gets to the door she glances back once more and sees Hux is just sitting there, her face illuminated in blue light as she checks her phone. When she’s halfway up the stairs her own phone chirps a message at her. She makes herself wait until she’s in her apartment, but as soon as the door is closed she bounces on the balls of her feet, excited, as she checks it.

 

**K. Ren: Thank you for my gift.**

 

**A. Hux: You’re welcome. Enjoy your holiday. I’ll see you when you return.**

 

She stares at the black and white words, reads them out loud until they’re memorized, burned into her memory and she can recall them exactly even with her eyes closed. Eventually she changes, tucks a few last minute items into her bag and settles into her bed, glancing at the short conversation one last time before she plugs her phone in to charge and lays down.

 

She’s fast asleep when, a couple hours later, her phone vibrates. It startles her into wakefulness just enough for her to groan, smash her pillow into a different shape, and turn over to go back to sleep.

 

She forgets about it until the next morning when he alarm startles her awake. She hits the snooze but the next time it goes off hauls herself out of bed and flicks on her coffee maker. She sits at her desk chair as the aroma slowly fills her apartment, the happy burbling easing her out of sleep. She picks up her phone to check if there’s any word from her parents.

 

There’s a notification of a message, but it isn't from Han or Leia. It’s from Hux.

 

She’s instantly awake and opens it. It’s not a message, but a photo.

 

A grainy picture, taken in low lighting, but Hux still looks radiant, the shadows from the poor lighting actually emphasizing the line of her cheekbones. She wouldn’t have guessed Hux the type to take selfies and given the fact that part of it is out of focus this very well might be the first time she ever has. But Hux herself is crisp and clear in the picture and there, glittering even in the low light, is the necklace, still hanging on Hux’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, that when you're playing with bondage/tying someone up, it is very important to never tie them so tightly circulation gets cut off. If extremities start to go cold/numb/turn blue, it is very important to be released. Please take care of yourselves! If you are intrested in any sort of restraining/bondage play, I highly recommend going to your local sex shop and speaking with someone there who is knowledgable and/or asking if they offer workshops. This work should in no way be taken as instructional material. Please stay safe!
> 
> If you're curious, this-
> 
> https://www.etsy.com/listing/150110923/emerald-green-heart-necklace
> 
> -is the necklace Kylo bought for Hux.
> 
> I'm cut-off-the-grain on Tumblr. Come say hi! I'm nice, I swear!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 3B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the second part of Chapter 3. 
> 
> This part actually focuses more of Kylo's interactions with her family, although Hux definitely plays an important role. I hope you all enjoy it!

Han arrives a little after noon. He calls to let her know he’s there and Kylo already has her bag on her shoulder, keys in the door to lock it, when she answers and simply states, “I’m on my way down.” She doesn’t invite him up even though he could probably use a break after the drive, but the idea of letting him into her apartment, of possibly giving her parents any more ammunition in their perpetual argument that they know better, of letting Han see the relative squalor she lives in and knowing it will be brought up as proof that she can’t take care of herself assuages any guilt.

 

“Need help carrying anything?”

 

“Nope,” she says, shaking her head even though he can’t see as she takes the stairs. “I got it. Be out in a minute.” Han just grunts and hangs up. Kylo takes the stairs at a reasonable pace, doesn’t rush but doesn’t stall either. On the very last flight she counts her breaths, in, one, two, out, one, two, following the same routine for meditation Uncle Luke tried to coach her through years ago when it became obvious her temper wasn’t something she’d grow out of. 

 

With a hand on the door handle she checks her coat pocket for her phone, even though she knows she just put it there minutes ago. With a final deep breath and a reminder that Hux is with her, even if it’s just black and white text and one blurry picture, she pushes the door open and steps out into the winter air.

 

Han has never been overly affectionate with her, content to let Kylo exist in her own space in contrast to Leia who seemed to think that prolonged hugs would somehow make up for all the time she spent away, so she’s surprised when he meets her right outside the door and pulls her in tight. Her hands are trapped, one still tucked into her pocket and the other holding onto the strap of her bag, so she just waits until he’s done. But instead of letting her go he holds her in place with hands on her shoulders and leans back to study her.

 

She doesn’t think she’s changed that much since he last saw her. Her skin is still pale from not enough sun, splattered with dark moles, her nose still just a bit too large to be feminine, and her hair might be a little longer but it’s still the unruly mass of tangled curls that can’t be conquered by any brush. He looks at her for so long she starts to wonder if she’s got a huge zit on her face she somehow missed looking in the mirror this morning. That’s exactly what she needs- to look like she’s sixteen again and have it be immortalized in the hundreds of pictures she already knows Leia will insist on taking.

 

“What are you looking at?” She finally asks when standing in the cold air becomes too uncomfortable, especially when Han’s car is idling at the curb, the humming of the engine holding a promise of heat.

 

“My daughter.” He pulls her in for another hug, this one thankfully brief, before letting her go with a pat to the shoulder. “I’ve missed you, kid. I’m glad you’re coming home.” There’s a glisten to Han’s eye when he pulls back they both pretend not to notice and even though her bag is actually lighter than what she lugs around campus all day, she lets him take it from her with no protest.

 

The interior of the car is as warm as she hoped and as soon as Kylo buckles in she turns the vents so they’re blasting hot air directly at her. Ever since she splurged on the necklace for Hux she’s kept the heat in her apartment turned down as low as she can stand to help save on costs. Even the ugly wool socks she’s taken to wearing can’t keep her toes from being cold, but the picture of Hux saved to her phone means it’s a sacrifice she would gladly make again.

 

They don’t talk much for the first hour, just the turned down volume of the staticky radio and the hum of the engine between them, not enough they couldn’t gap it if they felt the need, but a steady, constant buzz that fills the silences. The car hasn’t changed much since the last time she rode in it. Han has had the Falcon since before she was born, maintains it meticulously and swears her first word was ‘Falcon.’ It’s an old Dodge Charger, and the first and only time Han ever let Kylo drive it she managed to nick the paint, right on the Daytona stripe he insists is the original paint job. She had to spend the entire summer working to pay off the cost of the touch ups and was never allowed behind the wheel again. Han doesn’t trust anyone else to work on the car, and at this point probably couldn't find a mechanic willing to. Over the years, through some mechanical wizardry, he’s replaced almost all the parts with pieces scavenged from other cars, different makes and models and years that shouldn’t fit, should make the car undrivable, but somehow always do. Kylo’s unsure if it even still counts as a Charger at this point.

 

Han pulls into a gas station and Kylo hesitantly offers gas money. She tries to hide her relief when he turns her down but apparently doesn’t do so well enough because he hands her a twenty and asks her to go inside and get him a cup of coffee and grab herself something to. 

 

“Did you finally change the rule about eating in the car?”

 

“Just go get us snacks before I change my mind,” he grumbles, but there’s a smile on his face.

 

Back on the road, a bottle of soda carefully balanced between her legs while Kylo pops a chip in her mouth, Han clears his throat and reaches up to turn the radio off. “How have you been? School? Are you liking the new program?” 

 

She swallows her mouthful of chip, takes a swig of the soda. “Yeah, I’m good. School’s good. I like my classes a whole lot. I got all my grad school applications in.”

 

“That’s good, kid. That’s good. You know we worried, when you transferred schools with just one year left that-”

 

“Han,” she cuts him off sharply. Takes a breath. She’s never been great at talking to her parents, at least not about the important things. It’s easier to backtalk and snark and snarl at their questions to avoid any conversation that could cut too deeply. But the thought of spending two weeks like that, of hiding her true emotions behind a wall of anger, seems unbearable, even if that’s how she spent the first eighteen years of her life. She makes a bargain with herself in the ensuing silence- say what she needs, don’t get angry about it, and then she can pull out her phone and text Hux. “You know why I left. I’m not going to discuss this. With you or Leia. If that’s a problem take me back home now.”

 

Silence, just the wind whistling past the windows for a few uncomfortably long minutes, and then, “So Cee-Three broke his leg a couple months ago. He was running after Ar-Too who was chasing after Bee-Bee and went right out into the street. Car comes whizzing by, clips him. He’s okay now, but the dumb thing had to walk around with a red cast on for six weeks. Whined endlessly and wouldn’t leave your mom’s side.”

 

“How are Arty and Bee?” She asks, taking the change of topic to the family dogs as the peace offering it is.

 

Han shakes his head. “Worse than toddlers. Always underfoot.” Han continues on complaining about the dogs, just as he’s complained about the dogs since the beginning. Leia brought home Cee-Three and Ar-Too when Kylo was twelve, said they were supposed to teach her responsibility. Kylo almost believed it, fell in love with the two shaggy, fuzzy dogs that left fur everywhere and always wanted her attention, no matter how dark her mood. She had been dutiful in her responsibilities, walking and feeding them, until a few months later when during a campaign shoot Leia and her campaign manager had insisted that the dogs be included in the photos since they were rescues and that made for great publicity. Kylo can still remember standing on the front porch, wearing a dress with a starched white collar, and screaming at Leia that she didn’t want to be her daughter, that she wanted another mother, one who didn’t just want a perfect family for voter appeal.

 

She hadn’t much cared for the dogs after that. 

 

The summer before she left for college Leia had adopted Bee-Bee, still a wrinkly little puppy, from the Damerons down the street when their own dog had a litter. Kylo had known the little dog, tongue lolling out to lick her, was an apology for their strained relationship, but it hadn’t been one she was interested in accepting.

 

Still, she’s happy to hear that the dogs are alright now. There was a little kick to her heart when Han first mentioned Cee-Three being hit by a car, and she can’t deny that she cares, finds she doesn’t even want to. 

 

She hopes it’s a good sign.

 

She lets Han bear most of the conversational burden, nods and laughs when she’s supposed to, but doesn’t add much. Han doesn’t seem to mind, and occasionally he turns to look at her with a smile she matches.

 

She pulls her phone out during a lull in the conversation, settles with her head tilted against the window and debates what to say. Types out a message, decides it’s too boring, and erases it, types out another one. Eventually, after several tries, she concludes that a single text lacks the ability to be extremely profound, and settles on what she wants to say before hitting send.

 

**K. Ren: Did I ever tell you I had dogs? Three, actually. They shed. Everywhere. And need to be brushed more than I do.**

 

She has to stop herself from writing more, pauses with her finger over the send button before finally hitting it. Her phone makes a little swooshing noise as the text sends. It’s not witty, not deep, but it’s something about her, something Hux now knows that she didn’t before, and that seems like enough. 

 

It takes several minutes for Hux to responds. Han glances over at the chime but doesn’t say anything.

 

**A. Hux** :  **Take one of them for a walk tonight. By yourself. That is an order, Miss Ren. And you know I expect to be obeyed.**

 

Kylo feels her face flush, loosens the scarf around her neck more as a show for Han because she knows the heat’s not what’s responsible for her blush, but Han’s eyes are on the road, only occasionally flicking up to the rearview mirror.

 

She begins to type out an affirmative, then remembers that she’s only allowed one text a day, and she just used it. But does Hux expect her to respond? Will she be in trouble if she does? If she doesn’t?

 

Before she can work herself up too much another message comes through. 

 

It’s another picture, this time of a fluffy cat, red fur a few shades lighter than Hux’s deep copper, with a soft looking belly. The cat is licking her paw and gazing at the camera with a disdainful look.

 

**A. Hux: My Millie. Don’t let her fool you, she really is sweet.**

 

Kylo’s phone remains silent afterward, no more messages, but the thought of Hux and her cat makes her smile. She’s still smiling, many miles under the wheels, when Han looks over at her and squeezes her shoulder. “Something’s got you in a good mood, kid,” he says before resettling his hand on the wheel. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t push, and Kylo doesn’t offer anything. Just smiles and balls her scarf up, smushes it between her head and the window in a poor pillow, and lets the road slowly pass.  

 

____

 

Her good mood carries her through Han shaking her awake and groggily blinking, the world slowly resolving itself into her childhood home. When they’re standing on the doorstep Han gives her a much appreciated moment to try and straighten her tangled hair, one side flat from falling asleep against the window, and re-tie her scarf in an effort to look as presentable as possible for Leia. There’s a cacophony of barking as soon as his key is in the lock and when he pushes the door open three furry bodies are instantly trying to worm between them. 

 

“Damn dogs,” he mutters, but he’s gentle as he tries to push them inside so they can step through the door.  Three wet noses are press against her legs, damp and cold even through her tights, and Kylo finds herself holding her breath, staying as still as possible, until Bee-Bee, a small roly-poly, orange and white mutt who’s short legs barely keep his belly off the ground, gives an excited yip and tries to jump up to lick her, his little legs only raising him up to barely her knee before he thumps back to the ground and tries again. 

 

Laughing, Kylo crouches down to scratch his head and the other two dogs quickly decide they need attention too. Han watches as she’s covered in squirming, wriggling bodies, determined to claim all the attention for themselves. 

 

“Looks like they remember you,” Han comments, stepping past the pile of them. “I’ll go let your mother know we’re here.”

 

“As if I could miss all the racket.” Leia is leaning against the doorway to her office, watching with an amused quirk to her eyebrow as Kylo tries to push dogs off of her and stand up. 

 

“Hi Leia,” she greets, and doesn’t miss the quick frown Leia gives at the use of her name before it’s smoothed over, a bland if happy mask.

 

“We’re glad you came,” Leia offers, and tentatively hold out her arms. Kylo hugs her. Somehow she had forgotten how slight Leia is, not even coming up to her shoulders, but she still feels sturdy and solid.

 

There’s a heavy silence when she pulls back, no one quite sure what to say, even the dogs have ceased their yapping. Kylo shifts on her feet, trying to find somewhere to direct conversation while Han and Leia do the same, and when her eye catches on her bag where Han dropped it in the hallway, she seizes the subject. “Where should I put my stuff?”

 

“Oh,” Leia startles, and she sees Han’s shoulders relax, just a little, at the realization that whatever else the next two weeks may hold, they at least got through this part. “In your room, of course.” She bites back the retort that if she hasn’t been in it for three years it’s probably not really hers anymore, if it ever was, always decorated to Leia’s tastes instead of her own, but she’s barely been here for five minutes, she finds she doesn’t want to fight.

 

Maybe that means she’s maturing. 

 

A few steps down the hallway there’s a click of nails on the hardwood that makes her look down. Bee-Bee is at her side, tongue hanging out as he looks up at her, and Kylo can’t help but smile. She nudges his belly gently with her toe, not enough to hurt or move him, just a brief tap, a quiet thank you for not making her do this alone. 

 

The room has been redecorated since she was last in it, the walls an unobtrusive pale grey, the bed covered with a soft looking blue duvet, the chest of drawers clearly massed produced but still well made. She drops her things by the door and flops on the bed. A short bark alerts her that Bee-Bee wants to join her. She peers down at him, “Are you allowed on the furniture?” but picks him up anyway, laughing when she lays back down and he starts licking her face. “I know a cat who’s about the same colors as you,” she informs him, thinking of the picture in her messages. The thought makes her wonder what Hux is up to right now, if she’s at the library or possibly curled up in bed with her cat and a good book.

 

Kylo wastes a few minutes petting Bee-Bee before wandering to the bathroom. She splashes water on her face then dampens her hands and rakes them through her hair, pushing it off her face. With nothing left to do she picks up her coat and walks back to the entryway where she hangs it on a hook, toes her boots off and stacks them next to the other shoes collecting there before heading to the living room.

 

Han is sitting on the couch, tv playing some mindless action flick. Noises coming from the kitchen tell her Leia is clattering around in there, preparing dinner. She sits down on the other end of the couch, tucks her feet up under her and without warning has a lapful of dog. Ar-Too and Cee-Three glance at her before deciding napping on the rug is more important than getting pats.

 

“What are we watching?” She finally asks, several scenes later that don’t seem to tie together in any significant way she can parse.

 

“No idea,” Han tells her, glancing over. “Don’t let Leia catch you,” he warns Bee-Bee, reaching over to tug gently on the dog’s floppy ear but doing nothing to move the dog himself. The movie cuts to commercial and Han shifts in his seat. “I uh, found a documentary I think you might like. It’s about the attempted overthrow of the Senate, the one Mon Mothma helped stop. The DVDs are around here somewhere. Thought maybe we could watch it sometime if you want.”

 

“Yeah, Han,” she says softly. “I’d like that. Thanks.” They sit in silence again, Han reaching over to pet Bee-Bee occasionally, the dog slowly falling asleep until a metallic clatter from the kitchen startles them all.

 

“Should we offer to go help?” She asks, glancing over the back of the couch to the kitchen where she can see Leia busily stirring a pot.

 

“You can. I’m not allowed in the kitchen anymore.”

 

“He tries to deep fry everything,” Leia calls. “But you can come set the table, it’s almost ready.”

 

Kylo gets out the plates, on the same shelf as always, and sets the table while Leia pulls dishes out of the oven, Bee-Bee a furry shadow a constant half step behind her. When they all sit and start passing around dishes Bee-Bee settles across her feet, a personal space heater for her toes.

 

Dinner is surprisingly pleasant, although the conversation starts off stilted. She doesn’t know if Han warned Leia not to bring up Kylo transferring to First Order or if she’s just smart enough to not mention it, but as they chatter and the subject never comes up Kylo finds herself relaxing.

 

Leia runs through all the parties they’ve accepted invitations to over the holiday season and Kylo ignores all the none-too-subtle hints she drops about how handsome Poe Dameron has grown up to be, and how accomplished, and did she mention he was also home visiting for Christmas?

 

“Really not interested,” she stresses again, her grip on her fork going white knuckled as she tries to keep her voice calm.

 

“You’ve been holding this silly grudge against him for ages. You two used to play together all the time as kids. I don’t know what happened, but Bennie, it’s bee-”

 

“That’s not my name,” Kylo bites out. Leia pauses, puts her fork down and straightens the napkin in her lap before responding.

 

“Yes, yes, I know. You want to be called Kylo Ren.”

 

“I don’t  _ want _ to be called that, Leia. It’s my name. I paid a hundred fifty dollars and talked to a judge and everything.”

 

“Leia-,” Han starts, but Leia cuts him off with a huff.

 

“Really, Bennie, this is ridiculous.”

 

“That’s not my name!” She screams, standing up from her chair with such force it falls backward. She slams a fist on the table, tries not to feel hurt when Leia winces back in her chair even though, despite her temper, she’s never been violent. 

 

There’s a wet press against her toes and she sees Bee-Bee, jostled from his resting place, his pink tongue licking her. She suddenly remembers Hux’s text, takes a deep breath and lets it out before whirling away and stomping out. “I’m taking Bee-Bee for a walk,” she calls over her shoulder. She hears Han’s low whisper of ‘let her go, Leia,” and then she’s stuffing her feet into her boots, tugging on her jacket.

 

The dog leashes all hang from a hook by the door. She picks out the bright orange one and looks at Bee-Bee. “Is this one yours?” She asks him, his little body pressed against her leg vibrating with excitement as she bends down to clip the lead on.

 

It’s snowing gently, big fat flakes that turn the dying grass a soft white but leaves the sidewalks clear. The street lamps are on and when she stands under one she can see her breath clouding as she breaths out. She wanders aimlessly, follows any tugs on the lead as Bee-Bee investigates all manner of doggy things, yipping gently at her when she walks too slow.

 

His antics cheer her up and the crisp air clears her head of the fog of anger. She’s still mad at Leia’s refusal to acknowledge her name change, knows she probably should’ve made it a condition of her coming back. But that’s too late and she’s here now. All she can do is deal with the problem in front of her. She wonders where she learned that from and then realizes it was Hux. Hux, who gets mad and frustrated like anyone, but always just takes a deep breath and finds a solution.

 

Thinking of Hux Kylo wonders if she should tell her that she’s doing what she said. Bee-Bee is sitting on the ground, giving Kylo a look that says he would appreciate it if she hurried up because he has many important things to do but his tail is still wagging, hitting the pavement in his enthusiasm. Her phone is still in her pocket and she pulls it out, takes a picture of Bee-Bee, mouth open as he snaps at the snowflakes, sitting perfectly in a puddle of yellow light from a lamp.

 

Hux said one text a day, but a picture isn’t a text. Her finger hovers over the send button. “Should I send it, Bee?” The dog yaps, high and sweet, and Kylo takes it as agreement, sends the picture. There aren’t any words to accompany it, but she hopes Hux will still see the ‘thank you’ she wanted to add regardless.

 

They finally turn back when it becomes too unbearable to keep her hands out of her pockets, she should’ve brought gloves. When they’re back on Han and Leia’s block her phone buzzes against her hand. She waits until they’re inside though, leash and boots off, before she checks it.

 

**A. Hux: Very good, Kylo. Sleep in tomorrow. As late as you want.**

 

Kylo curls her fist around her phone and heads down the hallway to her room. She pauses at Leia’s office. The door is closed but light is seeping out from underneath so she knocks quietly.

 

“Come in.” Leia seems surprised when Kylo walks in, but stays silent.

 

Hand still on the doorknob Kylo asks, “Do we have any plans tomorrow morning?”

 

“No, nothing tomorrow morning.” Kylo nods as Leia leans back in her chair, takes her reading glasses off. “Why?”

 

“I think I’d like to sleep in.” It’s Leia’s turn to nod and they just stay there, silent for a moment, before Kylo finds the words she wants to say. “I’m sorry I yelled. And that I stormed off. We need to talk, but I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“I’m sorry as well,” Leia says, and her shoulders slump slightly. Kylo looks at her and for the first time she can remember Leia looks ragged, tired. Still beautiful, but like she’s taken on too much. Kylo finds she has nothing else to say so she turns to leave, opens the door but stops when Leia speaks. “Goodnight,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” A pause, and then, softly, “Kylo.”

 

“Goodnight,” she says over her shoulder. Before she pulls the door closed she peeks her head back in. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom.”

 

She pads softly down the hallway, unsurprised to find Bee-Bee waiting in the bedroom for her. She makes sure to pull out her phone charger along with her pajamas and gets ready for bed.

 

It’s usually hard for her to fall asleep in strange places, and even though the room was once hers it’s so different she assumed she’d spend most of the night awake, but with the promise of sleeping in tomorrow and the small weight of Bee-Bee beside her she’s asleep in no time at all.

 

____

 

Kylo wakes the next morning with the sun slowly cresting over the horizon and the growl of an engine warming up right outside her window. Bee-Bee is still in the bed, nestled behind the curl of her knees, and she turns over, pulls the covers over her head and goes back to sleep. When she rouses hours later midmorning sunlight is trickling in between the curtains and the aroma of coffee hangs heavy in the air. She follows the scent down to the kitchen.

 

Leia is at the table, newspaper open before her, with Han nowhere to be found. She pours her coffee and grabs a spoon even though she takes it black. 

 

She doesn’t say anything at first, just inhales the fragrant steam and appreciates the taste of coffee not bought from the dollar store. Eventually Leia sets her newspaper down and Kylo follows with her mug.

 

“It’s simply, really,” she begins, and stirs her coffee even though there’s nothing to stir. “Take the  _ Ky  _ from  _ Skywalker _ and the  _ Lo  _ from  _ Solo _ .  _ Bennie  _ gets shortened to  _ Ben _ and  _ B _ becomes  _ R  _ if you just erase the bottom line. Kylo Ren.” She glances up to see Leia staring at her, gape mouthed, glasses slipping down her nose. “I didn’t want to erase where I came from, I just couldn’t be Bennie Solo-Organa anymore.”

 

“Organa-Solo,” Leia corrects automatically. Kylo throws her a wry smile. “You never told me,” she says quietly.

 

Kylo shrugs. “You never asked.” She gets up, puts her mostly gone coffee mug in the sink and walks around to drop a kiss on Leia’s temple. “You said Han was going to pick up Uncle Luke and Uncle Chewie today, right?”

 

“Yes. He left this morning.”

 

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab a shower before they get here,” she says, and heads to the bathroom. She makes a quick detour to her room to grab her toiletries and sees her phone, right on the bedside table where she left it last night. She knows exactly what she wants to say to Hux today.

 

**K. Ren: I’m glad I came. Thank you.**

 

The next day is Christmas Eve and even Han and Leia’s large house feels crowded with the addition of two more people. Though a text from Hux was waiting for her when she woke up that morning,  **Take a bubble bath. Wine or tea, your choice,** she waited to respond until evening. 

 

She’s supposed to be getting ready for a party they’re to attend tonight but instead Kylo finds herself leaning against the window and watching the sunset. The colors are beautiful and vibrant, streaking across the sky like a watercolor painting just for her. The deep red reminds her of the way Hux’s hair looks in shadow, rich and layered, and even though she should be changing she picks up her phone instead.

 

**K. Ren: The sunset is beautiful tonight. It reminds me of your hair.**

 

Hux’s response is fast this time, less than a minute.

 

**A. Hux: Send me a picture.**

 

She does so dutifully then walks to the living room where everyone is waiting for her. “Oh good,” Leia says distractedly when she walks into the room. “Any longer and we’ll be- why aren’t you dressed?”

 

“I’m not gonna go. I want to stay here.” She’s dreaded the thought of the party since Leia had mentioned it her first night back but hadn’t worked out to say that she’d rather stay home without causing a fight. But now, with clear, simple orders from Hux, she finds the courage to say what she wants. 

 

Leia opens her mouth to protest, but Han puts an arm around her shoulder and guides her to the door. “Enjoy your evening. Make sure the dogs get fed,” he tells her, smiling. 

 

“Thank you,” she mouths, and he nods his head in acknowledgement before asking Leia a question to distract her. Once they’re gone she bids the dogs, all dozing on the floor, goodnight and goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine before heading to the bathroom. 

 

She lazes in warm, rose-scented water, the bubble bath purloined from Leia’s stash, and appreciates the solitude. Previous visits home have always been scheduled tightly, with a list of people to see and visit, partied and dinners to attend, and all the people, all the smiling and handshaking and trying to slip away from donors who yammered at her about how wonderful her mother was, she must be so proud, had always left her drained and exhausted, cranky and irritated and snappish just so people would leave her alone. If she had told Leia she didn’t want to attend the horribly boring charity banquets she would’ve been guilted and made to feel selfish for wanting to indulge herself instead of spending the limited time she had with her family until she succumbed and went, only to make everyone around her miserable with her churlish attitude.

 

But now, with clear if simple orders to follow, the directions black and white text on her phone, she feels no guilt for stretching out in a bath instead spending an evening dodging whatever suitable, eligible man Leia had lined up for the evening. 

 

This isn’f for her, this is for Hux. She knows it’s a lie, but it’s an easy one to tell herself.

 

Her toes are wrinkled and her head feels pleasantly hazy from the steam and the wine when she gets out. The house is still silent, everyone will probably be gone for many hours still, when, yawning, she crawls into bed. 

 

She dreams of red and green and ivory, of warm lips and chilled fingers and soft, gentle orders, whispered in her ear.

 

____

 

Christmas Day brings with it cold air and a sparkling layer of snow, fresh on the ground. Kylo is up before everyone else, the four of them probably all still hungover from the night before, so she flips on the coffee maker and walks to the front door. By the time her shoes are on, the dogs are all wagging their tails, eyeing the leashes and squirming so much she can barely clip them on. She lets the dogs lead her around, the morning slowly waking her, and by the time they get back the coffee is finished brewing and she has to stomp to shake the snow off her shoes.

 

She plugs in the lights on the tree, twinkling white on a seven foot tall Evergreen, and sits on the couch watching it, Bee-Bee in her lap, as she waits for everyone else to rise. When the rest of the house finally stumbles into the living room, all clasping cups of coffee and blinking blearily, they attack the small pile of gifts under the tree. Kylo ignores the twinge of guilt at the small fortune of gifts growing beside her when she hands out the cards she had gotten for them all, the only thing her budget had room for after Hux’s gift. 

 

After, she carries her gifts to her room and drops them on the dresser and checks her phone, unsurprised to see a text, but frowning when she reads it.

 

**A. Hux: Merry Christmas. Enjoy your day.**

 

She’s startled by how unmoored the lack of directions leaves her, reeling and bereft, lost without the compass of Hux’s words to guide her. She has spent her entire life refusing to listen to others, had left home as soon as she could to escape the constraints of being a senator’s daughter and all the restrictions that came with it, so why is it that it was only with Hux’s gentle guidance, orders she was too eager to follow, that she feels she had the freedom to do as she pleases?  She sit on the bed, staring at her phone and willing something else to appear until it makes her feel pathetic and, resigned, she walks over to her bags. 

 

Leia always made breakfast Christmas morning and insisted on pictures by the Christmas tree after while they wait for the first in a revolving door of guests who will be passing through throughout the day. Nice clothes are expected and Kylo had spent every Christmas of her childhood hating that after opening presents she had to go change into uncomfortable clothes just to look nice instead of lounging around in pajamas, tucking herself into a corner of the couch with hot chocolate and a movie. 

 

Her frown deepens as she shakes out her clothes, the only ‘nice’ ones she owns. Black pants in a cheap wool blend that scratch and a button-up shirt that pulls tight across her shoulders. She lays them on the bed and tosses a bra and panties on the bed to join them, reaching for the hem of her tshirt, sighing in resignation at spending an entire day in clothes she hates just so she can look presentable in pictures.

 

_ Enjoy your day _ , the words ring in her mind as if Hux is there whispering them to her. A shiver runs down her spine as she imagines the way Hux would hook her chin over Kylo’s shoulder, the gentle ruffling of her hair as Hux orders her.

 

_ Oh! _

 

As realization strikes she stuffs the outfit back into her bag and instead trades them for leggings and a sweater. She changes quickly, the stretched out cuffs of the sweater hanging past her knuckles, worn and soft, the neckline so warped it constantly slides off one shoulder, and even as she steels herself for an argument with Leia, Kylo sighs in relief. 

 

“Why aren't you dressed?” Leia asks as Kylo sits at the table beside Uncle Chewie, pushing the stretched out sleeve up her arm as she reaches out to grab a biscuit.

 

“I am,” she states simply, and cuts open the biscuit to butter it.

 

“You know we’re going to do pictures after.”

 

“I know,” she mumbles around a mouthful of food. Swallows. “I’m not stopping you.” She shrugs a shoulder and meets Leia’s eyes. “It’s Christmas, I want to enjoy it. That doesn’t include wearing clothes I don’t like.” 

 

The silence is tense as they all wait for Leia’s argument, even the dogs keeping under the table instead of poking their noses out for scraps, but Leia simply sighs, set the laden plate she is holding down, and takes her own seat. 

 

“Very well. But I’m taking you out to buy something for the Dameron’s New Year’s Party.” Kylo groans, tilts to the side and buries her face against Chewie’s arm, his meaty paw patting the back of her head in comfort as he mumbles something that gets lost in his overgrown mustache. “None of that,” Leia scolds. “I’ll overlook that,” she says, waving a hand at Kylo’s unacceptable outfit, “but I expect you to look presentable for the party.”

 

“Deal,” she agrees, even though she knows part of Leia’s reasoning is that she wants Kylo to look nice for Poe Dameron, hopes to dress her daughter up so she can catch the eye of the nice boy next door.

 

Leia insists on having Kylo stand behind Luke for the family photo, her clothes hidden. Not long after Han excuses himself for a moment and comes back in grease-stained jeans and a shirt that is more holes than fabric at this point. Soon Chewie follows, and then Luke, offering Leia a small smile when she frowns at his pajama bottoms that makes Kylo bury her face into Bee-Bee’s belly to stifle her laugh. By dinnertime even Leia has given in, her hair unpinned and falling loosely over her shoulders, smart button down exchanged for a soft, drapey tunic, when the last of the passing through visitors have finally died off and it’s just the five of them again, the documentary Han mentioned turned down low in the background, while Luke putters around in the kitchen, occasionally bickering with Leia when she tries to intervene or help.

 

After dinner they all return to the living room and squish onto the couch. Kylo opts to sit on the ground with the dogs piled across her lap. She absently strokes them while constantly making sure her wine glass is moves out of the way of wagging tails or eager noses. 

 

“It was a good Christmas,” Han, announces to no one in particular, Leia tucked under his arm when he ducks down to kiss her temple. She ‘hmphs’ at him but relaxes into his hold anyway, the glasses she traded for her contacts pushed askew when she lays her head on his shoulder.

 

Kylo looks at them, relaxed and slouching into each other’s spaces, the casual contact they think nothing of, and can only think of the night before she left when she held Hux’s hand in her own, of the quiet moments when they’re safely hidden away from the world in Hux’s car and Hux will reach over and touch Kylo’s leg, or brush hair out of her eye. Hux, who has been with her the entire time, has given her a way to see her family, to enjoy her family, without losing herself. Hux, who knew Kylo would need an excuse to give herself permission to step away from things without feeling guiltly and gave them to her under the guise of orders. 

 

She moves the dogs off of her and stands, stretches for a moment and wiggles toes gone numb. “Going to bed, kid?” Han asks.

 

“Yeah, thought I should try to actually make it to bed, instead of just falling asleep on the couch,” she says, nodding to Luke and Chewie, both asleep and snoring slightly, Chewie with his head tipped over the back of the couch, his mane of hair obscuring most of his face and Luke sunk down beside him, head on Chewie’s arm, looking almost like a ragdoll compared to the massive man.

 

Han laughs and waves her off.

 

The room isn’t entirely dark, even with the early setting winter sun. It’s not that late, she’s just worn down by a day of too much food and too many people and the mattress looks inviting and warm. Tucked inside her bag, carefully placed between the pages of a textbook, is the card Hux gave her. She pulls it out and sits on her bed, turns it over in her hands and lets her fingers bump over the perfectly imperfect texture of the heavy cardstock. 

 

She opens it and touches her fingers to the crisp numbers inside, already memorized but still so precious. 

 

Such a small gift, seven neat, precise numbers, but they’ve given her so much.

 

It’s sappy and sentimental but even knowing that doesn’t keep her from tucking the card under her pillow.

 

Her phone is still on the bedside table and she picks it up.  She never answered Hux before, too disappointed and then too startled with her realization of what Hux was giving her. She opens the messages and types out a reply.

 

**K. Ren: Merry Christmas. I think you started a revolution.**

 

She doesn’t offer an explanation, tucks the memory of them all sitting down at Leia’s perfectly dressed dining room table in jeans and plaid pajamas away to share with Hux later.

 

She’s surprised when a little bubble pops up almost instantly to let her know Hux is responding.

 

**A. Hux: I’ve always said I could rally the troops if needed. Just call me General.**

 

Kylo laughs out loud at the message. Stern, strict Hux, who rules her library with order. She pictures Hux with her neat bob slicked back, blandly professional shirts traded for a black greatcoat and her sharp heels turned black boots. The thought makes heat pool between her legs, a pulse of desire shooting through her that makes her squirm and she finally has to get up to turn on the fan and cool off.

 

She refuses to be aroused in a room full of her mother’s tasteful decorations. 

 

The card is still under her pillow, still cool to the touch when she sneaks her fingers up to touch it. With her eyes more closed than open she pulls it out to look at one last time. The writing looks like nothing more than a dark smudge in the dim light even when she brings it close and squints, but she catches the faintest hint of Hux’s perfume, clinging softly to the paper. 

 

The bed has seemed too big since the night she got here, unsure what to do with all the space when she’s used to her tiny single mattress, but she closes her eyes one last time, the smell of Hux’s perfume still tickling her nose, and burrows into the pillow. Suddenly, with thoughts of Hux as her own personal lullabye, the bed doesn’t seem so empty.

 

____ 

 

Two days before New Year’s Eve Leia makes good on her threat and wakes Kylo not long after dawn to take her shopping. 

 

She’d hurried Kylo into her jacket, a travel smug of coffee clutched in her hands, and out into the cold where Kylo, half asleep, had almost slipped on a patch of ice and had to catch herself with a hand against the hood of Leia’s car to keep from falling. At least the adrenaline from her almost fall had woken her faster than the coffee would.

 

They didn’t speak much, Kylo guzzling mouthfuls of the coffee while Leia navigated through still icy roads, the local news playing on the radio. It takes them forty minutes before Leia turns the car into the parking lot of a small cluster of boutiques.

 

Kylo instantly felt out of place when they stepped into the little shop but the saleswoman, in her classic wool sheath dress, a small brooch pinned to the collar of her jacket, greeted Leia warmly and turned her smile on Kylo, looking her over with an assessing but not unkind eye. “This is your daughter, then?” She asked unnecessarily, and Kylo decided, no matter how warm her smile, she hated her instantly for talking over her to Leia instead.

 

“Yes. Like we talked about on the phone, I want something appropriate for a New Year’s Eve party we’ll be attending.” The woman nodded, and told them she’d be right back before walking over to the racks of clothes, organized by color, and pulling a couple hangers off.

 

The next hour was torturous as Leia and the saleswoman, who had introduced herself several times but who’s name Kylo refused to remember on principle, forced her into the dressing room multiple times to try on dresses. By the third dress, after constant talk of ‘hiding her problem areas’ while the woman discreetly gestured to her stomach and hips, Kylo was ready to agree to the dress if it meant leaving with some of her dignity intact. 

 

The dress is hideous, a color the woman had generously referred to as ‘winter white’ but Kylo assesses as ‘oatmeal’. It hangs limply off her shoulders, all except for the terrible, stiff black bow, slightly off center on the neckline, and falls to right above her knee with no hint of her figure beneath the shapeless fabric. 

 

“How does it look?” Leia calls from the other side of the curtain.

 

“Like I’m wearing a burlap bag. But I think burlap would be a prettier color,” she calls back, the sharpness in her voice worn down by her frustration. One thing was sure, she certainly doesn’t need to worry about Poe Dameron trying to hit on her in this.

 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Leia says. “Come on out, let me see.” 

 

Kylo looks at her reflection again and sighs. Her tights and scarves may not be the most fashionable, but at least she feels like herself in them. And somehow they had caught Hux’s interest.

 

Inspired, she pulls her phone from her jacket pocket, hanging on a hook on the wall, and opens the camera. The photo she takes is blurry and grainy but it confirms her fear that the dress is hideous no matter what angle you look at it from.

 

**K. Ren: What do you think?**

 

She sends the picture and the message, drops her phone on top of the chair her clothes are piled on, and pushes aside the curtain.

 

“Oh,” Leia says when Kylo steps out.

 

“I told you, it’s ugly.”

 

“No,” Leia drawls out, in the diplomatic voice she uses when she doesn’t want to upset someone. “It’s, well, the fit isn’t quite right. Let’s try the next one,” she says cheerfully, and shoos Kylo back behind the curtain.

 

Kylo yanks the dress off, ready to be done with it, but the next one is almost as bad. Just as shapeless, a knitted dove grey with sleeves that were probably supposed to be long sleeved but she already knows will only come partway down her forearms. She slides it off the hanger, at least the color is better, but pauses before putting it on to check her phone.

 

**A. Hux: It hides your body.**

 

Kylo drops her armful of dress and sits down on the chair, uncaring that she’s probably wrinkling her clothes. There’s a flutter of nervousness twisting her stomach in knots as she types out another message. 

 

She sits for long minutes, contemplating sending it, even though it goes against the rules, but she has to know. The thoughts of what could happen- Hux telling her not to text her again if she couldn’t follow one simple rule, Hux lost permanently because of one foolish impulse-

 

“What’s taking so long?” Leia asks, frustration clear in her voice, and Kylo hits ‘Send’

 

**K. Ren: Is that a bad thing?**

 

She studies the text that had been waiting for her when Leia shook her awake this morning ( **Eat as much ice cream as you want today** ) and makes a decision.

 

“Out in a minute,” she responds, and starts wiggling into her leggings, the dresses forgotten on the ground.

 

“What are you doing? Where are your clothes?” Leia asks, half frantic, half exasperated when Kylo pushes aside the curtain, the rings clattering on the metal rod, and reveals herself in the clothes she walked in with.

 

“I’m going to go get ice cream,” she says calmly, brushing past. “Be back in twenty.” She pauses to knot her scarf around her neck. “Tell that woman to find some clothes that aren’t hideous.”

 

She walks straight for the door, weaving between the clothing racks, not stopping even when Leia calls her name, and turns a sharp left as soon as she’s outside for the sweets store a couple doors down she had seen when they parked. 

 

She’s halfway through the cone, rivulets of melted chocolate running down the sides from the heater the store has going full blast, half surprised Leia hadn’t stormed after her, when Hux responds.

 

**A. Hux: I’d think it would be clear by now that I like your body.**

 

Kylo almost chokes on the bite of cone she had been chewing, a flush creeping up her ears, and when the elderly gentleman who had smiled and given her a generous scoop of ice cream asks if she’s okay and needs a glass of water she has to wave him off with a sticky hand, unsure she trusts herself to form words. 

 

She finishes her cone, unable to keep her toes from tapping excitedly on the ground to an arrhythmic beat in giddiness, then clean her messy fingers off on cheap paper napkins before walking back to the store. She checks her phone one last time before going in and sees another message.

 

**A. Hux: Try a wrap dress.**

 

Leia is waiting for her, arms crossed and mouth twisted in unhappiness, and simply points to the dressing room. Kylo ignores her and instead turns to face the saleswoman, hands wringing nervously in fear Leia’s anger will be directed toward her. “Do you have any wrap dresses?” She asks, and tries to sound like she knows what she’s talking about. Years of watching Leia must have taught her well, because the woman straightens and looks at her, actually looks at her, for the first time all day. 

 

“We do,” she says, the words careful and measured as she glances at Leia. “But your mother was quite clear that she wanted something to hide your-”

 

“Problem areas,” she says with an eyeroll. “You can just say hips, you know. Hips, and belly, and thighs.” Wiggly, wobbily bits, that Hux has touched and kissed and bitten marks into, and whatever anyone else may think doesn’t matter, because Hux likes them. “My entire body is a problem area. But that doesn’t mean I have to hide it.” The last words are said while she looks at Leia. 

 

Leia sighs, drops her arms. “Fine. Bring her a wrap dress.” 

 

“Black?” The saleswoman asks, looking Kylo up and down again, her clothes all shades of faded black.

 

She opens her mouth to say yes, then pauses. “Do you have green?”

 

Two days later, when Han knocks on her door (because Leia has knocked the last three times and has obviously sent Han to pester her now) to reminder her that they need to leave in ten minutes Kylo studies herself in the mirror. The deep green of the dress is darker than Hux’s eyes, tinged with blue like the needles on a Christmas tree, and the vee of the neckline looks almost elegant on her. The tie at her waist cinches in, the line of the skirt hugging the swell of her hips before flaring out and grazing over her thighs. It doesn’t disguise her figure, the clinging fabric actually emphasizing the curve of her hips, but there’s enough give that it hides the soft rounding of her stomach.

 

She pulls on her jacket, pats the pockets to be sure her phone is in one and Hux’s card, the corners soft and limp from her handling, is tucked safely in the other, before she steps out.  

 

The Dameron’s have moved since she was a child, just far enough away to necessitate driving in the cold weather, and Han insists they all cram into the Falcon. It’s a tight fit, squeezed between Luke and Chewie, but it’s not so bad for ten minutes, Chewie’s arm along the back of the seat while he and Han argue about events that happened before she was even born. 

 

Less than twenty minutes after walking in the door Leia catched her arm as Kylo walks past and pulls her over. She groans when she sees Poe Dameron standing beside her, handsome as ever and smiling a charming smile, curls perfectly undone in a way which says he spent hours and too much hair product on.

 

“Bennie!” He greets, voice loud and booming, and she scowls at him and crosses her arms protectively in front of her when he makes to hug her.

 

“It’s Kylo,” she tells him, the words bitten off and doesn’t begrudge herself satisfaction when his smile falters for just a second. For the first time all night she regrets her decision to wear flats. Heels pinch, and even though she towers over him now, she would gladly take a few more inches height advantage.

 

“Kylo,” Leia chides, “Poe was telling me about his adventures in the Air Force. Did you know he’s a pilot?” Leia’s using the tone she’s perfected for soothing over awkward situations- she had all of Kylo’s high school years to perfect it.

 

“Yes. You mentioned it. Repeatedly.”

 

“How’s school going for you?” Poe speaks up, and Kylo doesn’t miss the pleased expression Leia gives him. 

 

“Good,” she answers, and looks around for an excuse to leave. 

 

“You look good,” he tells her, and she wants to laugh, but there’s something in the way his eyes drag up her which makes her realize he’s serious. Fucking perfect. If Leia notices she’ll be even more persistent in her match making attempts.

 

“You’re nose is crooked. Is it from where I punched you when we were sixteen?” 

 

“Kylo!” Leia all but shouts, voice controlled just enough not to draw attention as Poe self consciously reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Really. What is wrong with you? What happened between you two?”

 

“He made out with my girlfriend sophomore year! It’s  _ why  _ I punched him!” She whirls on Poe, finger pointed at him. “And  _ then, _  because apparently once wasn't enough, __ he did the same thing with my boyfriend junior year!” She doesn’t give them a chance to say anything, just turns and walks off, heads for the sliding glass doors and steps out onto the patio. 

 

There’s a stone bench and she kicks the snow off before sitting down. The cold seeps through her clothes but at least it’s not wet. She’s sitting there shivering, arms wrapped around herself to try and warm up, seething about Poe Dameron and the weird crush he’s had on Leia since they were kids which has always meant he’ll do whatever she asks, apparently including flirt with her daughter, when the squeaking of the door opening makes her look up.

 

Han steps out and when he’s close he settles her jacket around her shivering shoulders. He stays silent as he digs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, pulls one out and lights it with the same trusty lighter he’s always used. The acrid burn makes her cough a little so the cold air feels good on her throat when she’s done, but the smell of the smoke makes her think of Hux. 

 

She pulls the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

 

Finally, Han stubs the cigarette out with the toe of his boot. He brushes more snow off the bench and sits down beside her. 

 

“So are you gonna tell me their name?”

 

“Huh?” She looks at him, confused.

 

“I’m old, kid, not dumb. Something’s changed. You’re happy. It’s good to see you smile. You don’t have to tell me, but don’t think that means your old man hasn’t caught on.” They sit in silence for a while, just breathing and looking at the night sky. When she was little Han used to drive her out, away from the city, and they’d lay on the hood of the Falcon and look at the stars. They wouldn’t say much, just like now, just watch. It must be the wave of nostalgia that makes her answer when he asks, “Pretty?”

 

“Gorgeous,” she breathes, and turns to look at Han. He’s smiling.

 

“You happy?” She nods. “Good,” he says, and leans over to kiss her temple before he stands up. “I’ll tell your mom to back off with the matchmaking.”

 

“Thanks,” she offers.

 

His hand lands on her shoulder, squeezes, and she leans into it. “Love’s a good look on you, kid,” he tells her before heading back inside.

 

She continues to sit outside, the noise from the party filtered and muted through the door. The occasional smoker steps outside, but they don’t bother her. The air chaps her hands, leaves the skin red and her joints stiff, so she shrugs the jacket on properly, arms through the sleeves, and stuffs her hands into the pocket. When her hand brushes against her phone she pulls it out to check the time. 

 

**11:38**

 

She’s been saving her daily text, was planning to send one at exactly a minute to midnight, but now the idea of waiting seems unbearable.

 

**K. Ren: Happy New Year, 22 minutes early. I hope you’re enjoying it.**

 

There’s no response for a few minutes and she puts the phone back into the pocket, tries not to be disappointed. She tries to ignore the possibility that Hux is off somewhere, celebrating with someone she plans to kiss at midnight. Kylo tells herself it’s a ridiculous worry- She’s the one Hux has been texting daily, but she ends up standing and pacing, tells herself it’s just because she’s cold and needs to move to warm up and not because of her sudden nervous energy.

 

She’s contemplating going back inside, even her face feels frozen, and it takes her a moment to realize what the buzzing against her hand is. She fumbles and almost drops the phone in her haste to pull it out.

 

It’s another picture from Hux. Another selfie, and Hux must be at a party somewhere because there are different colored lights reflecting off her hair and skin, but the evidence that Hux is out on New Year’s doesn’t bother her like it would’ve a moment ago because there, resting daintily around Hux’s neck, is the necklace Kylo bought her. 

 

She almost drops her phone again when it rings.

 

“H, hello? Hux?” She gasps, breathless and scrabbling to keep numb fingers wrapped around her suddenly slippery phone.

 

“Happy New Year, Kylo. Two minutes early.”

 

“Happy New Year,” she echoes, “two,” a whole lot of racket suddenly comes from the house, forcing Kylo to stop. “No, one minute early,” she corrects, hearing a soft countdown begin.

 

“One minute early,” Hux agrees and Kylo hears what sounds like a door closing and the background noise from Hux’s end is suddenly gone.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“My house,” Hux states. “Every year I host a party for all the library staff with no where else to go. I usually come out to the balcony much earlier. I don’t need to see what my staff gets up to when the champagne starts flowing.” 

 

Kylo laughs, but the conversation halts when, from both ends, the countdown of “Ten, Nine,” begins. They both stay silent, neither following along, just letting the seconds tick by.

 

Noise and cheers suddenly erupt, and Hux lets out a soft laugh. “Happy New Year, Kylo,” she says softly.

 

Kylo smiles. “Happy New Year, Hux.”

 

It’s not the same as having Hux there to kiss, but they stay on the phone, and suddenly the bite of the air, the sting of her cheeks, the stiffness to her fingers, seems gone, warmed by the quiet heat of Hux’s words.

 

Kylo doesn’t realize how much time has passed until a shadow looms over her spot on the bench. She looks up to see Han standing there, jacket on and hands in his pockets, smiling down at her.

 

“Oh, sorry,” she interrupts Hux. “I have to go. Happy New Year.”

 

“Happy New Year,” Hux repeats again. “I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Yeah,” she agrees, only now aware of how parched her throat is from all the talking. “You will,” she says, and as she pulls the phone away to hang up she notes the time. It’s well after two.

 

Han doesn’t say anything, just nods his head to the door. They collect the rest of their group as they make their way to the front door, a sleepy Luke only still standing with Leia’s support, his head resting on his twin’s shoulder. As they head to the car Han and Kylo fall to the back of the group.

 

“New year off to a good start?” He asks, and nudges her shoulder with his own, smiling.

 

Kylo bites her lip, nods. “Yeah.” She looks up at the stars, at the infinite possibilities they represent, and curls her hand around the card in her pocket. “A great start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented/ left kudos so far. It means so much.
> 
> I'll be honest, this is a huge undertaking for me and there have been times where I've considered just abandoning it, but getting to go back and read all the lovely comments people have left really helps keep me motivated to continue writing.
> 
> Thank you again for reading.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!!
> 
> Hello and THANK YOU to anyone who's still reading this. I'm sorry that it's been so incredibly long since I last updated. I got a little stuck and then got writer's block, but I finally finished this chapter. I hope the length makes up for the long wait.
> 
> A very special thanks for youdidnotseeme, for always being a cheerleader and one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. For goldengarter, for all the encouragement. And for Luo, who specifically requested more nipple play. I hope this satisfies!
> 
> In good news I think I've finally hammered out an outline for the rest of this fic, so future updates will hopefully be quicker. And yes, if you check the chapter count, that is correct! There's another two chapters planned, along with an epilogue.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Han drops her off the night before classes resume. For the first time leaving her parents is bittersweet instead of a cause for rejoicing. The morning she left Bee-Bee had spent the entire time since she got up following her around, never more than a half-step behind her, a furry shadow she tripped over constantly. When she slipped on her coat, bag waiting by the door, his little body had pressed against her, causing her to stumble, as he whined lowly, his always wagging tail drooping

 

“I’ll miss you too, Bee,” she told him, bending down to give him a final scratch behind the ears.

 

“You could call him, sometimes,” Han said, pulling on his own coat and patting the pockets to find his keys. “Check up on him. We could put you on speaker so he could hear your voice.”

 

Kylo gave Bee-Bee a final pat on his head. “Good boy,” she praised, before straightening up and shouldering her bulging bag. “I’d like that,” she agreed, and went to hug Leia goodbye.

 

When she finally closes the door to her apartment behind her Kylo sighs, drops her bag, and goes to stretch out on her bed with her phone in her hand. It had dinged a message a few hours ago but she hadn’t wanted to check it with Han in the car. She doesn’t know what conversation he had with Leia, but the last three days Leia hadn’t made a single mention of Poe Dameron or any other eligible men. Han hadn’t brought up their New Year’s Eve conversation, but she hadn’t wanted to risk encouraging him, unsure how’d she explain the giddiness that had been bubbling in her ever since Hux called.

 

**A. Hux: What time is your first class tomorrow?**

 

**K. Ren: 9**

 

She sets her phone down on her covers, still rumpled from never being straightened before she left, and yawns as she walks over to her bag and fishes out her phone charger and Hux’s card before kicking the bag aside. She’ll need to empty it out to put her books in before tomorrow, which means she’ll simply upend it into her laundry basket tomorrow morning while cursing herself for being too lazy to sort through it tonight, but even though she’s done nothing more strenuous than sit in a car for four hours she finds herself exhausted.

 

She almost wishes she was back at Han and Leia’s with a big bathtub to relax into, but the wistful thought disappears as soon as her phone buzzes.

 

**A. Hux: Meet me in front of the library at 8.**

 

**A. Hux: Goodnight, Kylo.**

 

It’s not really late, although it’s dark in the way it only ever seems to be during winter, and Kylo had been considering making herself some coffee to stay up since she’s been feeling guilty about all the lazing around she’s done for the past two weeks. She could study, read ahead and be prepared, or start doing some research online for the group presentation Professor Antilles is going to require of them, a thought which already has her stomach twisting with dread.

 

Instead she turns the thermostat up two degrees, since the hundred dollar bills Uncle Chewie had insisted on slipping to her despite her protests will more than cover the luxury, props Hux’s card up on her rickety nightstand where it’ll be the first thing she sees in the morning, and finally sets her alarm before laying down.

 

____

 

Hux is outside the library smoking her daily cigarette when Kylo sees her.

 

The red of her hair is as bright as the sun against the grey stone wall she’s leaning on, cheeks hollowed out as she sucks on the end of her cigarette. As soon as she spots Kylo she drops it to the ground, stomps it out with a twist of her foot, and Kylo feels the breath knocked from her as a corner of Hux’s mouth curls into a smile.

 

She takes the stairs two at a time, bag bouncing against her legs, the corner of a book jabbing her in the thigh with every step and she knows it’ll bruise, only the first of many she hopes she’ll be wearing for Hux. She skids on the last step, almost tripping over her own feet in her eagerness, and it’s only Hux’s hand on her hip, steadying her, that recenters her. Even Hux’s huff of laughter at her clumsiness doesn’t sting because her fingers curl possessively at her side.

 

Kylo opens her mouth, unsure what she wants to say- _thank you,_ and _I missed you_ , and _I told my father you were gorgeous but I was wrong, I’m not a poet, I don’t have the words to describe you_ \- but no words make it out because Hux’s lips touch her, slick with her still fresh lipstick, the lingering taste of tobacco clinging to her mouth and Kylo shivers, from the touch of Hux’s thumb slipping under her sweater, from the press of her lips, from the burst of chilled air and the knowledge that anyone walking by could see them, and when Hux pulls back she tries to follows with a whine.  

 

“Eager girl,” Hux says, and she doesn’t kiss Kylo again, but she cups her hand around the nape of Kylo’s neck, her chilly fingers cooling the overheated skin, and tilts her head, their foreheads touching.

 

“What was that for?” Kylo breathes out, the words barely a whisper but still shaky.

 

“My New Year’s Kiss.”

 

“It’s January 4th,” she protests.

 

Hux touches a thumb against her lips, swipes across it and it comes away with a faint smear of red. Hux’s lipstick. She wishes Hux would’ve left it, let her walk around all day with it. “It’s my first one of the new year. It counts,” Huc argues gently, and Kylo just stands there, stunned by the thought that Hux, beautiful Hux, who she’s seen get appreciative looks from staff and students and professors alike, waited for Kylo.

 

While she process the revelation Hux unlocks the front door. “Your class isn’t for an hour, come,” she beckons, and startles Kylo out of her contemplation.

 

“The library doesn’t open till nine,” she informs Hux, who shakes her head as if to remind Kylo that it’s her library, she knows the hours.

 

“For us, it’s open now,” she says, and ushers Kylo in with a hand on the small of her back.

 

After relocking the door Hux walks over to a book cart, the shelves stuffed with books, and stomps on the wheel release to push it. “Is that the-” Kylo begins to ask, feeling overheated at the memory of Hux bending her over a cart and spanking her. It wasn’t that long ago, that first time where she gave herself over to Hux, but it seems so very far away now, after everything they’ve shared.

 

Hux doesn’t answer with words, but the arch of her eyebrow and the small, wicked little smile she tosses tells Kylo it is.  

 

She follows beside Hux as she wheels the cart into the stacks and, after taking a quick moment to reorganize the books on the cart to her own personal guidelines, begins reshelving them. They don’t say much at first and Kylo just leans against a shelf, watches Hux move confidently around the stacks as she tucks books away.

 

One of the shelves on the cart is almost empty when Hux steps next to her, a book in hand, and taps her gently on the hip to signal her to move. Kylo slides down a step, turns her head to watch those elegant hands place the book in the exact spot it goes, but after the book is put away Hux doesn’t return to her cart. She instead takes a step closer, catches Kylo’s jaw with the flat of her palm, and Kylo’s breath hitches when Hux leans in to kiss her.

 

Hux’s lips move against hers, slow and sweet, never deepening the kiss, just gentle, languid touches as their mouths slide together. The wet, slick sounds of their lips meeting and parting makes Kylo shiver and she can’t help but moan when Hux slides a hand into her hair, not fisting or pulling like she’s used to, just resting in her curls, another point of contact.

 

When the kiss ends Hux doesn’t pull away, presses their foreheads together and this close Kylo can see the small ring of amber around the green of Hux’s eyes. Hux’s thumb strokes back and forth on her jaw, slips underneath to press against the soft skin of her chin.

 

“Another New Year’s kiss?” Kylo finally asks, the words damp and humid between them.

 

Hux shakes her head slightly, just enough the movement doesn’t part them. “No, that one was just because I wanted to,” Hux tells her, and pulls Kylo forward for another kiss.

 

Kylo moans, chases after each kiss Hux gives her and then, feeling bolstered and drunk on Hux’s affection, she catches Hux’s slim hips in her hands and pulls her a stumbling half step closer, their legs slotted together and Hux’s body warm against her own. “My sweet girl,” Hux whispers to her, and Kylo can’t help but shiver at the words, at the possessive tone Hux says them with, arches even closer to Hux and the delicious heat of her body.

 

“I missed you,” Kylo confesses in a rush, unable to hold the words in and unwilling to try, and the smile Hux gives her is as bright as warm summer sun bursting through grey clouds and Kylo can’t look away.

 

“I missed you too,” Hux tells her. Hux leans in for another kiss and they both giggle when their noses knock together until Hux guides her with the hand in Kylo’s hair, tilts her head just right and slots their mouths together.

 

They stay there, basking in the weak sun filtering through the windows, not even really kissing, just letting their lips touch, murmuring soft noises that aren’t truly words, just quiet sounds as they soak up each other’s company. Kylo’s eyes keep fluttering shut until she forces them open again, determined to make up for weeks away with only a few grainy pictures and a neatly written phone number as her reminders of Hux.

 

It would be a waste, now that she’s here, now that she’s _home_ , with Hux so close, warmed from Hux’s closeness, not to look.

 

They’re startled out of their calm stillness by a gasped ‘oh!’ and the clatter of books hitting the ground with a flutter of pages. Kylo jumps at the sound right as Hux wrenches her neck to see what’s interrupted them, an irritated look twisting her face, and their heads smack together.

 

Mitaka is standing in the aisle, books scattered at his feet and a terrified look on his face. He winces when Hux turns her glare to him, rubbing her smarting forehead as she sighs through gritted teeth, taking a step back even as she places her other hand on Kylo’s shoulder to anchor her in place.

 

“Miss Hux! I’m so sorry. I, I should’ve realized you’d be here. When I didn't see you at the front desk I just assumed, but the cart was gone, I guess I should’ve known-”

 

“It’s fine, Mitaka,” Hux cuts off his babbling through gritted teeth. “Pick those up, please. Before something gets damaged,” she says, gesturing to the scattered books.

 

“Of course!” He yelps, and scrambles to pick them up, looking anywhere but the two of them as he crawls around on the floor.

 

Hux turns back to her with a sigh, squeezes her shoulder before dropping her hand and Kylo can’t help the twinge of regret that Hux didn’t press hard enough to bruise, that she has to spend another day without Hux’s claim writ onto her skin, even though the thought of feeling the inevitable heat of arousal it would bring in front of Mitaka makes her stomach turn queasy.

 

“I should be getting to class anyway,” she offers, and Hux nods.

 

“I’ll walk you to the door.” Hux’s hand drifts to the small of her back. Mitaka glances up as they step around him, ducks his head hurriedly when he sees where Hux’s hand is, his face turning red as he pointedly studies the stack of books he’s picked up.

 

Hux only removes her hand when they’re at the front door, a slowly growing stream of students hurrying past to make it to their classes. Even though it was only a small touch Kylo feels instantly colder without Hux’s hand on her.

 

“Get to your class,” Hux tells her, but then stalls her with hands on Kylo’s scarf, adjusts the knot of it until she’s satisfied that it’s tied tightly, tucks the ends into Kylo’s jacket. Hux brushes hair off Kylo’s cheek, tucks the wild curls behind her ear and trails the back of her hand down the slope of Kylo’s jaw, knuckles bumping over the curve of bone. “My sweet, good girl,” she praises, and Kylo presses into the fleeting touch, feels Hux’s knuckles dig gently into the give of her cheek before falling away. “Get to class,” Hux tells her again, a little more command in her voice, and Kylo finally steps away, lets Hux unlock the door before she slips past, slides their bodies together just a little more than the wide doorway requires before stepping out into the biting cold.

 

She has to run to make it to her class, sprints into the classroom with seconds to spare and panting from hurrying up stairs. All the seats in the back, her preferred spot, are taken, so she’s forced to settle for a spot in the third row. She’s digging out her computer when the professor starts talking, tries to shuffle out of her coat as quietly as possible. When Kylo reaches up to tug the scarf off she remembers Hux’s parting touch, and instead, despite the cranked up heating in the room, tangles her fingers in the ends.  

____

 

There is nothing in the world that will ever make Kylo not hate group projects, but out of all the ones she’s ever been forced to do for school she hates this one the least. Part of it may be the subject matter, an exploration of the use of high powered weapons in war, but she’ll also admit that part of it may be her assigned partners. Rey and Finn are not the sort of people she would’ve chosen in the past, far too bubbly and perky for her usual taste, but she can’t deny the lightness to her now, the happiness she carries, so while she may not be moved to join in their always present chatter Kylo finds it doesn’t grate on her like it may have once.

 

Maybe she was just lonely and hated the reminder that not everyone else was too. But no matter, she has Hux now, with her wickedly clever fingers and her sharp smiles and soft kisses. Hux, who she’s been meeting regularly before the library opens for weeks now, happy to haul herself out of bed early for the pleasure of spending an hour before class watching Hux, soaked in early morning light, shelf books and occasionally steal sly kisses that leave Kylo’s legs shaking before she darts away to continue replacing books.

 

She, Rey, and Finn all agree to meet at the library once they’re done with classes to divide up the workload on a dreary winter day. It hasn’t snowed in over a week but the temperatures have remained low. As a result the snow that fell, once a pristine glittering white, has refused to melt and is instead pushed into piles along sidewalks and roads that darken from white to grey with every passing day.

 

It’s odd not heading directly for her usual table- for what she’s begun thinking of as _their_ table- but the thought of taking Rey and Finn into that little world, to sit down at a table Hux has bent her over to spank her, a table Hux has kissed her at, a table she and Hux have occasionally sat at in silence with matching cups of coffee and watched the morning slowly wake before Kylo has to head to class, makes her uneasy.

 

Instead she heads for a table in the library’s main atrium, quiet but still humming in a way only a small placed filled with bodies can be. Hux isn’t at the circulation desk although Kylo can see movement behind the frosted glass of her office door. Mitaka glances up at the cold burst of air Kylo brings in with her but quickly looks away. Ever since the morning she returned from break and he saw them he hasn’t been able to meet Kylo’s eyes or look toward her without blushing. She wonders how he manages to still work for Hux without combusting from embarrassment.

 

She’s beat Rey and Finn and takes the biggest table available, spreads her books and notes out across it and takes the spare minutes to look over all the information they’ve gathered and try to plan what they need to do next.

 

Kylo’s not there long, only long enough for even her thin jacket to be too much with the library’s heaters and she’s gracelessly shrugging out of it when Rey plonks down in the seat beside her with a cheery “Hi Kylo!”

 

Finn, still sunny but more sedate than Rey, quietly sits in the other chair and nods to her in greeting. “Were you waiting long?” He asks. “Rey insisted on stopping at the coffee shop to get hot chocolate.” Instead of apologizing Rey triumphantly holds a styrofoam cup up and takes an exaggerated gulp.

 

“It’s cold,” she argues after swallowing her mouthful. “I was cold.”

 

“You’re always cold,” Finn shoots back. “You’d only be happy in a desert.” Rey pulls a face that says she very much disagrees and Kylo tries to muffle a laugh to avoid being loud in the library. Whatever their relationship may be she doesn’t think it will prevent Hux from coming out just to scold her if she’s disruptive.

 

They settle in and begin attacking the pile of notes and half formed ideas, trying to shape the assignment into something presentable while they each claim the sections they want to be responsible for. For once Kylo actually trusts that the others in her group will actually do their assigned work instead of leaving her scrambling to do it all.

 

After an hour Kylo leans back in her chair and stretches her arms, can’t help an appreciative groan when the muscles in her back loosen at the stretch. Kylo turns her head to stifle a yawn against her shoulder when she catches a familiar flash of red at the edge of her vision and the arm she was lowering from its stretch is caught in a strong hand, thin fingers pressing into the soft bend of her elbow.

 

“Careful, Miss Ren,” Hux cautions, and nods to Rey’s cup, teetering precariously right on the edge of the table where Kylo would’ve knocked it off if Hux hadn’t stopped her.

 

Kylo works her jaw for a moment, mouth gone bone dry, at Hux’s sudden appearance, at the look she’s giving Kylo that is soft despite her admonishment, here in the open of the library. It’s one thing for Hux to kiss her when no one is around but the gentle way Hux guides her arm down, here where anyone can witness the care of Hux’s touch, is another thing altogether.

 

“Sorry,” Kylo finally croaks out when she finds her voice. She swallows, tries to speak again and is pleased when her words don’t sound so scratchy. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful.”

 

“See that you are,” Hux tells her, but the words are kind, fond. Her green eyes flick over Rey and Finn, watching, and she gives them a quick nod. Hux finally releases her hold on Kylo’s elbow, but not before giving it a final squeeze and continues on her way, weaving between the tables with her slim hips swaying, careful, measured taps of her heels echoing around the room that Kylo swears is more silent than it was a minute ago.

 

“She _knows your name_!” Rey hisses when Hux has sauntered far enough way the sharp whisper won’t carry. “HRL knows your name. She was nice to you!”

 

“HRL?” Kylo asks, confused, mind muddled from Hux’s presence.

 

“Hot redhead librarian,” Rey explains with a wave of her hand.

 

“Hux?”

 

“Yes!” Rey explains, exasperated at Kylo’s sudden denseness. “You’re missing the point. _She_ _knows your name.”_

 

“Yeah? And?” Kylo asks, hopelessly confused.

 

“She doesn't bother to learn anyone's name. She's called Finn ‘F N’ because there's been a misprint on his student ID since he started. He corrects her, every time, and she never remembers.” Rey takes a deep breath and points a finger at Finn to emphasize her point. “Finn’s had a crush on her since he was a freshman.” Rey continues, despite the strangled noise of protest Finn makes. “The first time he saw her he walked into a stack of books and tripped. _And she doesn't remember him!”_

 

“Rey, what the hell!” Finn yelps, and Kylo didn't realize someone with skin that dark could turn that red until now. “I don't know what she's talking about,” he babbles, turning to Kylo. “I don't, I don't have a crush on her. That's ridiculous.”

 

“You tried to give her chocolate last year for Valentine's Day,” Rey accuses as she jumps from what can only be a well aimed kick from Finn.

 

“I was being nice, Rey! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

 

Rey hmphs and crosses her arms, pointedly looks away from Finn and doesn't say anything while Finn dutifully studies their notes as an excuse to duck his head and try to hide his blush.

 

Kylo sits there is silence, a warmth blooming in her at the thought that out of everyone, Hux choose her. After a couple minutes of Finn and Rey still refusing to acknowledge each other she clears her throat and leans toward Finn.

 

“Did you, did you really buy Hux chocolates?”

 

“ _I was being nice!”_ He protests, voice strangled with embarrassment while Rey smirks.

 

Kylo picks up a pen from the table and twirls it between her fingers, eyes on the pen as she tries to ask causally “Did she like them?”

 

“I knew it!” Rey crows, jumping out of her seat to point a finger at Kylo. “You _do_ like her! You're as bad as Finn!”

 

“I was just-” Kylo begins to defends herself at the same time Finn starts another protest of “For the last time, Rey-” and then a student at the table near them, fed up, finally turns and cuts them both off with a hissed “Will you keep it down?” and they all stop, suddenly aware of how loud they’ve become.

 

“Sorry,” Finn, the peacemaker, whispers and gives an apologetic look that must be sincere enough to convince the girl to believe him, because she huffs out a sigh and turns back to her book. Properly chastised, Finn quietly begins to gather up his papers and softly asks “Do we have much left to do?” And when Kylo shakes her head he begins to pack up his books while Rey just sits there, looking smug.

 

When Finn stands to leave and tosses Kylo a wave goodbye Rey stands to, book piled in her arms, but pauses beside Kylo. “I’m sorry, if I, ya’know,” she trails, shrugging one shoulder. “I just, I meant she must like you, that’s all.”

 

There’s an awkward moment of silence before Kylo realizes she should probably say something. “It’s okay,” she offers with a small smile, not really sure what Rey is apologizing for. Rey looks disappointed, as if she were expecting something more, but she doesn’t press, just nods and skips off after Finn, already at the door.

 

Kylo begins to gather up her own belongings, and nearly knocks Rey’s empty cup, still sitting on the table, over. She catches it, the very last little bit of liquid sloshing around in the bottom, and slings the strap to her bag over her shoulder, picks it up and looks around for a trash can.

 

Hux is at the circulation desk now, methodically, making her way through logging in returned books on the computer, and she looks up when Kylo walks up.

 

“Is there a place I can toss this?” Kylo asks, holding out the offending cup.

 

Hux considers her for a moment, a heated glint in her green eyes making Kylo squirm in anticipation. “Yes,” Hux says carefully. “In my office. Where I apparently need to explain to you the proper volume to use in a library.”

 

Kylo swallows, suddenly feeling overheated. “Yes ma’am,” she whispers, and doesn’t hesitate to obey when Hux nods to her office.

 

“I’ll be in when I’m finished.” Hux catches Kylo’s wrist as she walks around the desk and pulls her close, close enough she can catch Hux’s perfume, close enough that when Hux whispers in her ear she shivers at the touch of lips to the shell of it. “Be a good girl while you wait.”

 

She can’t draw a deep enough breath to respond, the air leaving her lungs in little stuttery gasps with how near Hux is, so she simply nods. When Hux drops her hand Kylo wraps them in the stretched out hem of her sweater, twists the fabric to try and keep her mind anchored enough she can walk to the door, her knees shaky with the desire to drop to them, to kneel on the floor and turn her face up to Hux, to seek out Hux’s cruel fingers and soft lips and sharp teeth and soothing words, to let Hux touch her, strip her, punish and pleasure her, there, in front of everyone.

 

As soon as she’s in Hux’s office, the door shut firmly behind it, she places the empty cup in the waste basket and lets her bag slide off her shoulder, drops it beside the door.

 

She already feels on fire, from a few whispered orders and casual touches, blood burning as want shoots through her. Hux said to be good but didn’t specify beyond that. She’s lost, adrift, with no concrete way to make Hux happy, and the thought that she might do something wrong just because she wasn’t told _what_ to do makes her jittery, makes her skin feel tight and itchy, and the scratchy, cheap fabric of her sweater is suddenly unbearable.

 

Well, that’s a start. She yanks it off, the cool winter air making her arms prickle, and she’s suddenly grateful for the tank top she choose to wear as a barrier between the sweater and her skin. At first she tosses the thing on the ground, but instantly knows Hux wouldn’t approve, so instead she folds it into a passably neat square and places it on Hux’s desk.

 

That done she looks around, tries to figure out what else she could possibly do to please Hux. With no other clear instructions she decides to simply sit and wait. The spot in front of Hux’s desk is visible as soon as the door open so she settles there, kneels on the carpet and crosses her hands at the small of her back, takes a deep breath and finds her her anxiety slipping away as she waits for Hux.

 

She tries not to fidget, because even though Hux isn’t there to watch her it feels like she’s doing something wrong. Kylo locks her fingers together, rolls her shoulders just the slightest bit, and closes her eyes, times her breathing to the ticking of the clock on the wall.

 

She’s not sure how long she’s been waiting when the door finally opens, but a small ache has settled right between her shoulderblades and her butt has gone numb from where her heels are digging into it. She doesn’t look up, keeps her eyes downward until a pair of black stilettos, so shiny she sees her face reflected in the toes, wide eyed and dazed, appear in her vision. She chances a glance up and Hux is smiling down at her, puts a hand on top of Kylo’s head and strokes, her perfectly manicured nails gliding through the tangle of curls.

 

“What a good, good girl you are for me,” Hux praises, and Kylo pushes up into the touch, tries not to feel embarrassed about the whine that rises out of her throat. Hux crouches down, tilts Kylo’s head up with a finger under her chin, and smiles. “Have you been waiting for me all this time?”

 

Kylo nods, a little desperately. “Yes,” she gasps. “I wanted to be a good girl for you.”

 

“You are,” Hux promises, and rewards her with a hand stroking the length of her back, rubbing the tenseness from the muscles. “You are, such a good girl. You just need to learn the rules, that’s all.”

 

“Rules?” She slurs, mind hazy with pleasure, warmth, from Hux’s nearness, the sweet fingers in her hair. Vaguely, she knows Hux sent her in here with the promise of punishment, but that seems so very far away now, with Hux so close and a soft hand on her back.

 

“Rules,” Hux repeats. “Like being quiet in the library.”

 

“M’sorry,” she mumbles, and sways into Hux’s touch. Hux’s fingers flutter along her jaw, turn her face upward so Hux is looking directly at her. “I didn’t mean- I know-”

 

“Quiet,” Hux commands, soft tone dropped, and smacks Kylo’s cheek. It’s less a hit and more of a sharp tap, just Hux’s long fingers, no palm, and it doesn’t hurt, isn’t even enough to tingle, just enough of a reminder for Kylo to be good, to listen, to stop arguing.

 

She snaps her jaw shut.

 

“Just like that,” Hux praises. “See? I know you can learn. You just have to be reminded sometimes.” Kylo nods, _quiet, quiet, quiet_ she chants to herself, tries not to make a sound, but Hux suddenly stands up and bereft, lost and unmoored, fright pounding in her that Hux is leaving, that she’s already screwed up, Kylo keens, wildly reaches a hand out to grab Hux’s ankle.

 

“Please,” she whispers, and then swallows, winces at her almost immediate failure.

 

But it works, because Hux crouches back down, pulls her close again, and Kylo’s arms fly around her in a fierce hold. “It’s alright. Sweet girl, my good girl. I’m not leaving. I’m just going to grab my coat.”

 

“Don’t leave,” she begs. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

 

“I know, I know, I won’t. I’m going to be right back,” Hux promises, squeezing her tight. “I‘m not leaving.”

 

“Promise?” Kylo whimpers out, embarrassed by how watery the word sounds.

 

“Promise. I promise,” Hux swears, cheek tucked against Kylo’s, holds her for long moments until Kylo calms down, her breathing deep and even. “I’m going to be right back,” Hux tells her and coaxes Kylo’s hands to release her. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving. Alright?”

 

She takes a shuddery breath, nods.

 

Her eyes track Hux when she stands, follows her trim figure as she walks over to a hook by the door and plucks her coat off of it. It’s a beautiful camel wool trench, a deep, rich color that Kylo knows sets off the ivory paleness of Hux’s skin.

 

Hux smiles when she turns back around, the coat folded over her arm, and sees Kylo’s gaze following her. Hux doesn’t say anything as she walks back and Kylo stares, a little confused when instead of putting the coat on Hux spreads it out on the ground until Hux comes back to her.

 

Hux doesn’t say anything as she pulls the tank off of Kylo, and Kylo shivers, presses into Hux as she reaches around and undoes the clasp of Kylo’s bra with chilly fingers.  

 

As soon as her bra is off and the chilly air hits her breasts her nipples tighten, the soft, pink skin pulling into peaks while the rest of her skin is pebbled with gooseflesh. When Hux steps away again Kylo wraps her arms around herself.

 

“Finish undressing,” Hux orders, looking imperiously down at Kylo. “Then lay on the coat. I think it’s time I taught you a lesson about being quiet.”

 

Kylo gulps, nods shortly, and the ‘ _yes ma’am’_ is on the tip of her tongue, mouth open, when Hux clicks her tongue in a scold and wags a finger in front of her face. “ _Quiet_ , Miss Ren,” she orders, and Kylo clicks her mouth closed.

 

She takes a few deep breaths before wiggling out of her leggings, tries to balance preparing herself for the bracing cold against disobeying Hux, and halfway through peeling the leggings down she almost loses her balance and has to hop around to regain it until Hux grabs her arm with a stifled laugh.

 

She starts to apologize but catches herself and, blush heating her cheeks and spreading rosy pink down her chest, she instead mouths ‘sorry’, careful not to make a sound.

 

“What a good girl,” Hux praises. “Learning already,” she praises, and slips to her knees in front of Kylo.

 

The pose should look submissive, the way Hux helps work the clinging fabric down Kylo’s legs could seem subservient, but the firm touch of Hux’s fingers, the heated path they burn on Kylo’s legs, the way her own knees tremble when Hux arches forward and catches the band of Kylo’s panties, already soaked and sticky, in her teeth and delicately pulls them down speaks not of submissiveness or meekness but of power, control, Hux’s glinting teeth caught in the cheap cotton, scraping along her quivering thighs just hard enough to occasionally leave a mark.  

 

She’s breathless when Hux lets go of the panties and lets the drop the rest of the way to the ground, has to choke back a sob when Hux grazes her lips along the vee of her legs, mouth hot and damp as it drags along the soft crease of her thighs.

 

Yes, Hux may be the one on her knees, but Kylo hols no doubt about who has all the power.

 

Hux pulls back with a final, pointed breath of air over her pussy, damp and glistening, the air cooling the slick there, and Hux’s smile is nothing but satisfaction when she stands back up and watches Kylo tremble. “Lay down,” she commands, and the gentle nudge of her hand to Kylo’s shoulder sends her stumbling.

 

It’s a relief to lay down, her legs twitching and unsteady even as she settles on her back. The lining of the coat is cool and smooth against her overheated skin and the collar, when she turns her head to it, holds the clinging scent of Hux’s perfume. It doesn’t take long for the lining to absorb her warmth and when she shifts, the silky material glides against her and she moans.

 

“Now Miss Ren, we talked about this.” Hux’s voice is so close and Kylo has to open eyes she didn’t realize were closed to see Hux crouched beside her, hovering so close to her. “ _Stay silent,”_ She commands, and swings a long leg over Kylo’s hips, shifts her weight until she’s straddling Kylo’s waist, her knees squeezing in tight, the scratch of her trousers a rough touch with every shift of Kylo’s hip, her heels, legs folded beside her, digging sharp points of pain into the swell of Kylo’s thighs.

 

The first swipe of Hux’s tongue against her nipple makes her shriek, and Hux’s hand clamps on her throat, not pressing, but a heavy reminder of who’s in charge. “Quiet,” she commands again, and digs the heel of her hand in briefly, not enough to cut off any air but with just enough weight the panting breath Kylo takes drags in her throat before Hux lets go.

 

She’s better prepared for the stroke of Hux’s fingers along the tightened skin of her areola and Kylo stuffs her own fingers in her mouth the catch the noise that tries to claw it’s way out.

 

Hux teases the tightened bud of her nipples with her lips, fingers, grazes her teeth and lets the ends of her hair brush over them. Every touch makes Kylo shiver, her back arching into Hux’s mouth while her hips try to twist and grind, desperate for anything to relieve that sweet ache building between her thighs, but Hux’s weigh keeps her pinned, squirming.

 

Her fingers are coated with spit, drool catching in the corners of her mouth and slipping messily down her chin as she tries to stay quiet, tries to catch every little noise Hux is working so hard to pull out of her, jaw aching from the stretch around the fingers she’s biting down on, mind lost to a repeating mantra of _silence silence silence_ , barely able to think past the heated touches Hux gifts her.

 

Her hips jerk and she nearly knock Hux off when Hux bends and laves her tongue across an oversensitized nipple before taking the bud into her mouth, red lips smearing a ring on it while she catches it with her teeth and tugs, the flesh stretching taut and tight and Kylo, muscles strung tight with pleasure and her cunt pounding, throbbing with every beat of her heart, unable to stop herself, rips her hand from her mouth and sobs a throaty “Please!”

 

As soon as the word is out, echoing between them, she heaves a sob, tears in her eyes as soon as the sound of her failure hits her own ears.

 

She tries to bite her knuckles but her heaving, sobbing breaths are too unsteady, body thrumming with want and need and shame. She tries to turn her face, to tuck it into the comforting folds of the coat’s collar, but Hux’s hands are on her, buried in her hair and turning her scrunched up, tear stained face to meet Hux’s gaze. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to see the disappointment that must be on Hux’s face, but Hux’s gaze is soft, the hands rubbing soothing circles on her scalp kind, and Hux is whispering to her.

 

“My lovely girl. It’s alright. It’s okay. You did so well for me,” and Kylo sags back, overcome with relief that she didn’t fail Hux. She hiccups a few sobs, takes some unflattering, snorting breaths until her stuffed up nose is clear again, then surges forward and captures Hux’s moving mouth in a sloppy, messy, uncoordinated, perfect kiss.

 

“I did good?” She asks, the words shaky and her smile watery, but Hux nods, stretches forward and touches their foreheads together. Kylo’s eyes cross as she tries to look at Hux, so she gives up, closes them, and relishes the steady point of contact. “You’re not mad?” She asks, voice quavering on the question.

 

“No, no,” Hux promises, shifts just enough to smear a trail of kisses on Kylo’s cheeks. “You did so well for me, my beautiful girl. You’re so good for me.”

 

Hux keeps murmuring reassurances to her, and the heated flush of Kylo’s skin returns, basking in the praise as Hux kisses her, soft, honeyed kisses that linger, their lips never really parting while Kylo lets herself be warmed by Hux’s body curled over her.

 

One kiss turns heated, Hux’s tongue slipping into her mouth, and her hips try to rock up, the heat settling in her belly renewed when Hux’s hand tickles over her ribs to land on the dip of her waist, fingers squeezing into the soft give. She moans into the kiss, no longer worried about staying quiet, and Hux laughs softly. “My good, good girl. I’d say you’ve learned your lesson.” Hux’s teeth nip at her lip and Kylo reaches up, snags her hands on Hux’s shoulders to pull her closer. “I think you’ve earned a reward, don’t you?”

 

Kylo groans against Hux’s lips, the sweet ache of her cunt intensifying and she spreads her legs as far as the press of Hux’s body will allow to try to ease the throbbing, pulsing heat. Hux shifts up on her knees, lifts herself just enough the she can slide a hand between their bodies, and cups her hand around the mound of Kylo’s cunt, fingers sliding in the wetness gathered there and teasing past her slit but not pressing in.

 

“Please!” Kylo gasps, and rocks her hips more firmly against Hux’s hand. “Please!” Hux dips a finger into her, sinks it into the wet heat of her while she circles her thumb against Kylo’s swollen clit. Kylo chokes on a sob, a wet, messy sound with all the spit wetting her mouth, past words.

 

Hux bends down to take another kiss at the same time she tucks another finger inside. She rubs her thumb against the the bud of Kylo’s clit and plucks the fingers of her other hand against one of Kylo’s sore nipples, gives a cruel twist right as she rubs her fingers against the fluttering muscles of Kylo’s inner walls and Kylo screams, bites a mouthful of wool while she twists her hands in the lining and the fabric shrieks as it tears beneath her fingers, barely able to catch the slippery fabric in her grappling fingers while her body gives into Hux’s touch, her orgasm coaxed from her in rolling waves of pleasure.

 

Kylo pants heaving breaths, wetness on her cheeks that it takes her a few scattered seconds to realize are tears. She whines when Hux slips her fingers out and slides off, missing the warm weight of Hux’s body instantly, but Hux doesn’t go far. She tucks the edges of the coat around Kylo and lays down beside her, pulls her close and guides Kylo’s head to her chest, a steadying hand on Kylo’s shoulder while her breath heaves and hitches, body shuddering with aftershocks of pleasure.

 

Finally, when she thinks she can speak again, when her entire body doesn’t feel so raw, Kylo swallows and buries her face into the crook of Hux’s neck, inhales the same perfume that lingers on the collar of the coat. “I think I ruined your coat,” she apologizes, throat tight. She knows she should offer to replace it, to buy Hux another one, but she’s also certain, the thick, soft wool clutched in her hands, that it’s so far out of her budget she could never afford to. Even the potential cost of getting it cleaned and fixed is almost impossible for her to scratch out of her meager savings.

 

She feels Hux shake her head, her hand stroking a long line down Kylo’s back. “It’s fine. Sacrificed to a worthy cause.”

 

“You’re not mad?” She questions, propping herself up to stare down at Hux, hopelessly lost by Hux’s lack of anger.

 

“Why would I be? I’m the one who put my coat down. If anyone’s at fault it’s me.”

 

“But-” Kylo starts to protest until the words are muffled by Hux’s fingers pushing into her mouth, lips smearing against her teeth. There’s a sharp tang to the salt of Hux’s skin and Kylo moans when she realizes it’s her own flavor, that she’s sucking the taste of her own cunt off of Hux’s fingers.

 

“Miss Ren,” Hux whispers, leaning in close and rolling them over. “I believe I told you to be silent,”

 

____

 

She stays so busy with school, the ever growing pile of assignments some sort of terrible Hydra, where as soon as one paper is turned in it seems two more are waiting to be written, that Kylo barely even notes January slipping by, the days all fading into one endless, plodding march of too cold, too dark, all the students huddled into their bleak, colorless winter coats fading into a bleary background, indistinguishable from the grey sky and dirty snow.

 

The only bright part of the dreary world is Hux, her hair a flaming riot of color against the rest of the sullen world, her kisses warm and wet even if her fingers are always cold, the blooming garden of bruises and lipstick smears she sends Kylo home with more night than not a reminder that even the barren hold of winter will give way eventually to color and spring.

 

It’s a surprise when the campus explodes in shades of red and pink, hearts and flowers popping up everywhere. Kylo’s confused as she walks past a table set up in the snow covered dead grass along the main thoroughfare, the two students sitting there, warming their hands on steaming styrofoam cups calling out to everyone passing by. “One day til Valentine’s Day. Buy a rose for your sweetheart! Only one dollar!”

 

Kylo ducks her head and hurries by, doesn’t acknowledge them when they call out, and skirts past all the other clubs and sororities she passes on the way peddling their sickly sweet presents.

 

She slips into the classroom with five minutes to spare, her scowl having kept most of the people shilling their goods from trying to tempt her. She tries to ignore it, but the mood of grand romance that everyone seems to be pushing simply irritates her.

 

She’s never much cared for Valentine’s Day and while in the past everyone around her has contributed her dark mood to not having someone to celebrate with that’s not quite the case this year. She has Hux, at least by some standard of having, and Hux clearly cares for her, or else she wouldn’t ask Kylo to join her some mornings for no purpose other than to get in the way while Hux steadily works her way through the cart of books needing to be shelved. If Hux didn’t care she wouldn’t hold Kylo’s hand while they drove home, wouldn’t kiss her through aftershocks after playing Kylo’s body to coax orgasms out of her. If Hux didn’t care she wouldn’t bother to send Kylo texts that remind her to take care of herself, that give her permission to enjoy herself.

 

Now she’s forced to admit that she’s cranky because she doesn’t know if she should get Hux something or not. They haven’t discussed it, but they hadn’t discussed Christmas presents either. And yet Kylo has a card propped on her nightstand and Hux wears the necklace Kylo bought her almost everyday. She loves it, the way Hux will reach up to adjust it, and every time it catches her eye Kylo’s reminded that Hux leaves marks all over her body but she willingly wears one from Kylo.

 

The idea of giving Hux something else to wear, someone small token of Kylo’s affection, another subtle claim that Hux is her’s as much as she is Hux’s, is incredibly appealing, but she also knows it’ll be almost impossible to find something nice she can afford.

 

She debates sending Hux a text. She still does daily on the weekends but it seems silly when they see each other most days, a few lines of text can never compare to the reality of being with Hux, and when the woman herself is so near Kylo can’t bear to settle for a watered down version of just words. It would just be a couple of words, to find out if Hux has any plans for the day, if Hux _wants_ to have any plans for the day, but what if Hux doesn’t?

 

All she wants is to be good enough for Hux, but she’s not even sure how to do that.

 

Her mind’s such a jumbled mess that she’s jittery and nervous when she walks up the steps to the library. She hesitates outside the doors, hand on the handle, and for the first time dreads seeing Hux. She only goes in when someone tries to shoulder past her to get in and she realizes her indecision is blocking the door.

 

Blessedly, the library is lacking any pink and red decorations. The lack of hearts soothes her, and Kylo breaths deep as she heads to her usual table, lets the familiar scent of old books settle her jangled nerves. When she sits down at her table, jacket and scarf still on because the trade off of being right next to a window is privacy only because of the chilly air that seeps in. She tucks into a heavy book, armed with her highlighter, but the text is dull and as soon as Kylo hears the click of Hux’s heels on the floor she pushes it aside, grateful for the distraction.

 

Hux is wearing her overcoat, unbuttoned but tied shut at the waist, and Kylo is confused for a moment until she notices Hux is juggling two styrofoam cups, She holds one out to Kylo who hurries to take it, shakes her hand to return feeling to fingertips gone numb as soon as the cup is safely in Kylo’s hold and sits down with a heavy sigh, loosening the tie of her coat and shrugging it off while she takes a long sip of her drink.

 

“Everything okay?” Kylo asks, rolling the cup between her palms and trying to decide if she should drink it or not. Hux handed it to her, so presumably it’s for her, but she also didn’t say anything and Kylo might’ve just been a pair of available hands.

 

Hux leans her head back, rolls it side to side to work loose tense muscles before she lets out a great breath. “I’m fine,” she finally says. “Valentine’s Day is just a surprisingly stressful time for a librarian,” she finishes and gives Kylo a small, weary smile that makes her heart beat faster anyway.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yep,” Hux agrees, her sharp accent popping on the p. She leans back in the chair with a groan and scrubs her hands over her face. “Love poetry. The poetry section is _deserted_ the rest of the year, but February 13th comes around and suddenly everyone has to find the absolute perfect poem to profess their love.”

 

“You don't like love poetry?” Kylo asks, and finally decides the drink must be for her and takes a sip.

 

“I don't like frat boys who don't understand why they shouldn't try and woo a woman who probably doesn't have any interest in him anyway with Sappho,” she says, voice getting tighter and more exasperated the longer she talks. Hux takes another sip of her drink and sighs again. Kylo doesn't say anything, just studies her, the faint lines at the corners of her eyes that usually appear when she offers Kylo a rare smile but are now pulled sharp with frustration. “I'm sorry, I'm cranky today. I've never cared for Valentine's Day much to begin with.”

 

“You don't?” Kylo asks, surprised although unsure why. She had assumed Hux, beautiful Hux, who was probably accustomed to being showered with gifts and never had to spend a night alone unless she wanted, would like the holiday. “Why not?”

 

Hux shakes her head. “I don't like feeling that love is an obligation. You shouldn't do something nice for the person you love just because of the date.”

 

Heat blooms across the apples of Kylo's cheeks and she takes a quick sip of her drink as an excuse for her growing flush. She thinks of all of Hux's tender touches, her sweet kisses, the way she always seems to know what Kylo needs and gives it willingingly. The warm drink in her hand she didn't realize she was pining for until it was warming her insides.

 

“You're a romantic.” She tells Hux, a smile on her face.

 

“I was raised by a man who believed needing others was a weakness. I think being a romantic is my own personal rebellion.”

 

“Oh,” Kylo says softly, “I’m sorry. That must’ve been horrible.”  She aches for Hux, for the lonely girl she must’ve been and is even more amazed by the woman she’s become.

 

“It was a long time ago. For good or bad I am who I am because of him.” Kylo wants to reach out and touch her, offer Hux the comfort she apparently was denied through her childhood, but before she can figure out how Hux breaks the moment by giving her head a little shake, the movement flicking the end of her hair out and sending with it the waft of warm skin and sweet perfume. Hux picks up her cup from the table but pauses with it touching her lip before she sets it back down. “I need something stronger than this,” she announces, and breaks off her words for just a moment to reach up and touch a finger to the necklace hanging on her neck, the bright emerald just as sparkling as the day Kylo gave it to her. “I’d enjoy some company, if you’re almost done.”

 

It seems early in the day for a drink, not even 4:30 despite the grey already creeping over the horizon, and Kylo’s never much cared for more than the occasional glass of inexpensive wine, having heard Han and Leia’s many whispered, slurred arguments seep through her door late at night when she was a child, always fueled by one too many beers, but she agrees easily anyway, already feeling half drunk just at the thought of spending time with Hux outside of the confines of the library.

 

Hux goes to collect her keys and Kylo finds her leg bouncing with jitteriness while she closes her book, carelessly shoving everything into the battered bag before swinging it over her shoulder and walking as quickly as she can without drawing attention to herself to the circulation desk where Hux is waiting for her, already buttoned into her coat, scarf knotted artfully around her neck.

 

Neither or them say anything as they walk to Hux’s car, hand stuffed tight in their pockets to try to ward off the chill. Kylo stops with her hand on the door handle and looks around at the crowded garage, the handful of people searching for their own cars. There’s never been anyone else around when they leave together before and for a second she feels as if she’s about to get caught, but no one pays them any attention and Hux sees unconcerned about the possibility of being spotted together so Kylo brushes it aside and gets in.

 

Hux waits until she’s buckled her seatbelt to lean over and brush a kiss to Kylo’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispers.

 

“I haven’t done anything,” Kylo says, a blush creeping across her face at the show of affection. Hux doesn’t say anything, just starts the ignition and begins easing the car out of it’s spot. “You still haven’t told me what the ‘A’ in “A. Hux’ stands for,” she says as Hux shifts the car into drive, just to fill the silence and try to distract herself from her nervousness.

 

“There’s a good reason for that.”

 

“It can’t possibly be that bad,” Kylo argues, but Hux won’t be goaded into responding and simply reaches over to take Kylos hand in her own, rests their entwined hands on the console between them except for when they’re at a red light and Hux pulls Kylo’s hand toward her to press a delicate kiss to the back of it.  

 

They drive in silence, twisting through roads into a part of town Kylo’s not familiar with but the upscale window displays in the boutiques and the tastefully done Christmas decorations on every street corner looks exactly like the high end stores Leia always dragged her to until she was old enough to make a nuisance of herself and be left at home.

 

Hux finally parks and when Kylo steps out she looks confusedly around for a bar, something high end and classy that’ll probably have a wooden bar polished to a shine where the bartender wears a white button down and a tie and Kylo will feel completely out of place in her holey sweater and faded black leggings and scuffed up boots but she’ll tolerate the dark looks she’ll get from the other patrons if it means sitting there with Hux.

 

But instead of a bar Hux is waiting for her in front of a building with a hand painted sign proudly declaring ‘ _Imperial Ice Cream Parlour Est. 1953_ ’

 

“Are you coming?” Hux calls, hand on the door.

 

“Ice cream?” Kylo asks, bewildered, as Hux opens the door for her and they step inside.

 

“A chocolate milkshake is definitely stronger than herbal tea,” Hux says with a teasing grin, directing Kylo to a small table with a hand on her back.

 

Kylo sits while Hux goes up to the counter and orders. While the bored looking teenager behind the counter scoops ice cream into a silver cup Hux turns around and smiles at her. Kylo feels her heart beat faster. Although the hour means they’re the only ones in the store, having missed the after school kids and too early for the dinner crowd seeking something sweet, it feels monumental to be here with Hux, to have walked in touching, to be sitting at a table that’s small enough their knees will be pressed together.

 

Hux walks over carrying two glasses filled to almost overflowing with their milkshakes, topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a shiny, bright red cherry. Kylo’s hands are shaky with the weight of what this means, being out in public together, being seen together, and her fingers slip on the glass as she tries to take it, almost dropping it, but Hux manages to catch it and steady Kylo’s hand until it’s safely on the table.

 

“Hey,” Hux says quietly to get her attention. “We don’t have to stay.”

 

“No!” She exclaims loudly enough the employee leaning disinterestedly on the counter startles and looks at them. “No, it’s not that. I just, I’m sorry. I’m nervous,” she confesses with a breathless little laugh. Hux sits down across from her and she doesn’t take Kylo’s hand but lays her own across Kylo’s wrist.

 

“Why are you nervous?”

 

“Aren’t you embarrassed?” She asks, and at Hux’s puzzled look she’s forced to admit to what worries her. “To be seen with me?” To be seen with Kylo, her hair now hopelessly tangled from being tossed about in the bitter winter wind, her thrift store clothes the best she can afford.

 

“No,” Hux insists emphatically, squeezing Kylo’s wrist. “Never. Absolutely not. I invited you, Kylo. I don’t know why you can’t see yourself the way I do, but I promise you, there’s no reason I could possibly be embarrassed.”

 

“Oh,” is all she can bring herself to say, and brings the straw to her mouth so she can look at something other than Hux’s fierce gaze.

 

Hux seems to know Kylo needs a moment to collect herself, to process Hux’s conviction that Kylo has nothing to be ashamed of, so they sit in silence and sip at the rich confection. Hux’s hand stays steady and warm on Kylo’s wrist until she turns her hand and slots their fingers together. Hux doesn’t say anything but she does squeeze it, just hard enough for Kylo to know it was intentional, that it’s alright.

 

It’s Hux who breaks the silence. “My Aunt Rae,” she begins slowly, as though she’s testing each word before she says it. “There was a place like this not far from where she lived, and when I’d go visit her we’d walk down and she’d let me get whatever I wanted.” Hux pauses to take a long sip of the sugary treat, throat working. When she speaks again her eyes are fixed on her straw as she slowly stirs it through the thick drink. “You don’t need to pity me. Feel sorry for me. My childhood wasn’t all bad,” she says with a tiny shrug, finally flicking her eyes to Kylo.

 

Kylo’s mind jumps through all the reassurances she wants to give at once- _I could never pity you. I think you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I think you deserved better but I could never think less of you._ \- but she knows those are the exact words Hux doesn’t want to hear. So she swallows them down and instead focuses on the one happy note in Hux’s words. “Tell me about your Aunt Rae.”

 

Hux smiles, and Kylo’s heart beats a little faster.

 

They finish their milkshakes amid easy, warm chatter, and Kylo learns that talking about her Aunt Rae makes Hux’s face fall soft and happy and that she will only talk about her father in the vaguest of terms. She never mentions her mother. Kylo tells her about her own family, actually quite small unless you count the sprawling amount of ‘Uncles’ and ‘Aunts”, not actual blood but who were always around when she was young, and Hux laughs so hard she almost snorts milkshake up her nose when she asks what Uncle Chewie’s real name is and Kylo makes a face and is forced to hesitantly admits that she’s still not sure.

 

By the time they leave they’re giddy with sugar and Kylo’s teeth ache from all the sweetness and her cheeks hurt from smiling.

 

On the drive to her apartment Hux turns the radio on. She twists the knob for the volume almost all the way down so Kylo has to strain to hear the music but she doesn’t mind, charmed when Hux begins to hum along.

 

When Hux pulls up to the curb Kylo takes as long as possible to gather her bag and unfasten her seatbelt, loathe to let the evening end. She hesitates with her hand on the door, debates asking Hux to come up. It would almost be worth letting Hux see her crummy apartment, the too small space and threadbare carpet she lives with, the coffee maker that is the entirety of her kitchen, if it means they don’t have to part.

 

But before she can make up her mind the decision is made for her when Hux leans across the divide and kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Kylo,” she says, and then turns to stifle a yawn against her shoulder, the effects of too much sugar finally catching up with her. When she turns back to face Kylo she blinks slowly, once, twice, and her smile is sleepy.

 

“Goodnight,” Kylo offers in return, and there’s a faint pang of rejection as she gets out of the car, but she ignores it, refuses to let it dampen her otherwise near perfect evening. “Get home safe,” she says as a final farewell before closing the door and walking to the building.

 

She’s stripped to just a tee shirt and lying in bed, staring hazily out the window at the darkening sky, too busy reliving every minute with Hux to really see what she’s looking at, when her phone chimes and pulls her out of her daze. It takes a moment for her to dig around in the messy pile of her sheets to find where she left it and when Kylo finally unearths it she’s surprised to find a message from Hux.

 

**A. Hux: Check your bag.**

 

There’s no other instructions and she’s warm and cozy in her cocoon of blankets, but Kylo doesn’t even consider disobeying. Her bag is slumped by the door where she discarded it when she walked in.

 

She’s burning with curiosity when she lifts the flap of it and unzips it. Everything looks the same as it did this morning when she left for class but she paws through it anyway, knowing Hux wouldn’t tell her to do so for nothing. There, pressed between two textbooks, is a gift bag, made with a thick, heavy paper that’s smooth and cool to the touch, with soft, satin ribbon for handles. It’s crumpled and smushed from it’s hiding place but when she pulls it out she gasps.

 

_La Perla_ , it declares, in embossed gold letters.

 

She has no idea when Hux even managed to slip it in her bag with Kylo noticing.

 

The tissue paper crinkles when she reaches inside and her rough fingers and bitten nails snag on the delicate fabric she pulls out.

 

The panties are a bright red, the same shade as all the decorations that have popped up overnight in anticipation of the upcoming holiday, and seem to consist more of lace and mesh than actual fabric. They’re cut high and she knows they’ll cover the swell of her stomach, that the lace, soft and stretchy, not scratchy, will mold to her thighs, cradle the curve of her ass.

 

It feels obscene just touching and holding them, letting the material slip across her palm, because they’re so much more expensive than what she’s worth, and her breath hitches at the thought of wearing them, feeling that expensive material rub against her with every step.

 

Her phone chirps again while she’s rubbing the lace between two fingers and she takes care to lay the little slip of fabric flat and smooth before she answers it.

 

**A. Hux: Wear them for me tomorrow.**

 

Her fingers are shaky and it takes far too long to tap out her reply, heat between her legs at the prospect of walking around all day, smooth silk and dainty lace cradling her, a sign of Hux’s ownership only she’ll know is there.

 

**K. Ren: Alright**

 

**____**

 

The small silken bits of fabric are cool when Kylo pulls them on in the morning but quickly warm to her skin, the smooth lace glides up her legs, cupping the curve of her ass. Somehow they fit perfectly, the band laying smooth and flat just below her waist without cutting into the swell of her belly. Kylo spends long minutes looking at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the delicate bits of fabric, feeling the fine lace drag against her palms before snapping back into place.

 

It seems like a shame to pair the beautiful panties with her ratty t-shirt bra, grey from too many washing with straps that never stay up like they should. She’ll have to find a way to save up and buy something that matches the panties for next year, she thinks as she contemplates herself half naked in her mirror before she’s startled to realize she’s planning a future with Hux and has to shake herself back to reality and finish getting ready.

 

It seems a waste to cover up such nice lingerie with her usual fare of well worn clothes and her hand keeps drifting the the green dress she wore for New Year’s, the one she got only because Hux gave her the courage to challenge Leia. It seems natural to put it on, to dress herself in Hux’s colors, even if no one else knows what they mean, the mark of Hux’s ownership settling easily on her skin.

 

It’s really too cold for the dress without tights but the way the panties feel, soft and clinging to her skin, with the brush of the skirt from the dress, is too delicious to resist and as she hurries down the stairs to catch her bus Kylo finds herself swaying her hips, swishing them back and forth just to feel the slip of the lace between her thighs. It’s a maddening feeling that leaves her squirming in her seat, almost as good as the bruises Hux leaves her with, the smears of lipsticks and bruised lips that make Kylo feel whole, like she was always meant to belong to Hux.

 

Hux hadn’t told Kylo to meet her in the morning and Kylo hadn’t caught an early enough bus to really have the time but it’s still with a pang of disappointment that she walks past the library steps and sees Hux isn’t there.

 

Her nine o’clock class is even more torturous than usual, every shift in the uncomfortable chair reminding her of the clinging lace she wears, the swish of her skirts over her thighs. She draws a slow, deep breath, just to feel the pressure of the waistband dig in, and the soft constriction feels like Hux’s greedy hands grabbing her, holding her.

 

She’s slick halfway down her thighs, almost dizzy with arousal and worried she’s so wet between her legs there might be damp patches on her dress by the time her last class of the day is over, cursing herself for scheduling her classes so closely together with no time to do more than dash from building to building. Kylo’s legs feel like jelly as she carefully picks her way down the slippery steps of the lecture hall, unsure if she wants to slip into a bathroom and do something about this terrible, delicious heat building in her core or head to the library and pray Hux is able to pay attention to her soon.

 

With thoughts of Hux in her mind it’s really an easy decision. She heads to the library.

 

Kylo stops at the tops of the steps, runs a hand down her dress and tugs it free of wrinkles while she sucks in deep lungfuls of the icy air. The chill does nothing to cool the twisting, hot need in her, her blood still singing in her veins with fiery want, but at least the bitingly cold air can excuse the flush she’s sure is halfway down to her belly by now.

 

She doesn’t feel anywhere near centered and calm enough to push past the doors, but the thought of waiting any longer to see Hux is unbearable.

 

There’s been an understated buzz in the air all day, what some might call romance but what Kylo thinks is just excitement that there’s something to break up the grey monotony of winter, that she’s been too preoccupied to really notice, focused not on cards and roses and hearts but on Hux’s possessive touch in the form of lace and satin. Kylo only notes the undercurrent of excitement when she enters the library and it suddenly drops away, deadened by the thudding of the door behind her, like the thick carpet and books themselves have absorbed it all.

 

The library is as it always is, and the familiar scent, the smell of leather and old ink and paper, hangs in the air, soothing her in a way deep breaths of winter air never could, comforting in its familiarity, in its very _Huxness._

 

The only sign of the holiday induced madness outside is a shiny, foil wrapped box in the shape of a heart sitting by Hux on the circulation desk. Hux herself is dressed sleekly in all black, perhaps as a show of protest against the holiday she so despises, perhaps simply because she favors darker colors, except her usual bright red lipstick is missing today, swapped for a soft nude that Kylo might think were just her bare lips, except she’s bitten those lips, kissed them wet and bruised and seen what they look like with the lipstick smeared off.

 

She’s unsurprised Hux has had someone try to win her affections, suspects that wasn’t even the first time today, and wonders if possibly Finn had decided try his luck with chocolates for a second year or if some other suitor come calling for Hux with candy. Kylo waits for the flare of jealousy that someone tried to steal Hux away, but it doesn’t come. Hux obviously doesn’t want her affections stolen away given the stormy look on her face, the frown twisting her pretty mouth. And of course, the snug cling of the panties Kylo wears now, damp between her legs with wetness, the kiss of lace a reminder of Hux with every step, every swing of her hips, are proof that she already has Hux’s affections.  

 

Hux’s eyes dart to her, wary, as she approaches the desk, but her expression changes, the corner of her mouth turning up into a devilish smirk, the look of steel in her eyes sparking instead to heat when she takes in Kylo, flushed and trembling, standing before her.

 

“You did as I asked?” Hux asks pointedly after flicking her eyes to the side to be sure they have as much privacy as they can reasonably expect in the atrium of a crowded library.

 

Kylo swallows, mouth dry. “Y, yes,” she chokes out, and it sounds like there’s gravel in her throat.

 

“Good,” Hux says with a wicked smile. “Follow me, please, Miss Ren.” She steps smoothly out from behind the desk and starts making her way through the library without pause, confident Kylo will follow without bothering to check.

 

Kylo feels rooted to the spot, feet leaden and pulse thudding heavily in her veins, before she can make her legs respond and follows dutifully after Hux.

 

Hux winds her way confidently through the library until she’s waiting at a heavy wooden door for Kylo. Kylo recognizes it instantly, the door that leads to the wing that houses the rare books, the very same one Hux led her up months ago, when Kylo first made a clumsy pass at Hux. Judging by the amusement coloring Hux’s features she’s remembering the same encounter.

 

Kylo’s breathless by the time they reach the top of the stairs, knees shaky, and there were several times, Hux just a step ahead of her, her round little ass perfectly outlined in her tailored trousers, where Kylo had to talk herself out of leaning forward and biting the curve of it. She had clung to her restraint by digging nails into her palms, already so overwhelmed with desire she felt lightheaded as they climbed and the thought of whatever punishment she would be forced to bare for the transgression was too much to handle.

 

Hux doesn’t open a room, instead she walks Kylo against the wall of the hallway, the only light weak winter sun filtering in through the window next to them. Kylo’s breath is shallow, quick, barely enough to keep her grounded, and she feels drugged by want, thoughts a hazy red tangle of _need need need._

 

“Show me,” Hux commands as she takes a precise step back, face thrown into shadow by the dim light.

 

Kylo’s hands are shaking as she skims the skirt up, and every brush of fabric makes her muscles jump and her skin scream for Hux’s touch instead. When the fabric is bunched at her waist she clenches it in her fingers and moves to tug it off but is stopped by the whisper soft brush of fingers over her hands. She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes, overwhelmed by Hux’s gaze and the thought that they’re so close to a window that if she shifted or stumbled anyone could see but when Kylo opens them Hux is close, closer, and the chilly touch of her hands makes Kylo moan.

 

“You like them, I take it? Hux asks with a smile, and Kylo finds words have deserted her, all she can do is nod and gasp as fine fingers trail down her bare skin to brush against the waistband. Hux dips her fingers just past the elastic and if she weren’t pressed against the wall Kylo is certain her knees would give out.

 

Cruelly, Hux’s fingers go no farther, slipping back out despite the way Kylo’s hips shift forward, her skin crying out for contact, the ache between her legs all consuming. It’s a painful tease as Hux drags her hands over the fabric, the lace and mesh giving just a hint of her touch, and Kylo moans, rocks her hips and twists her fingers in the fabric she’s clinging to.

 

“Naughty girl,” Hux whispers in her ear just as her fingers slide over the wetness that has soaked the lace, and Kylo can’t bite back her moan. Hux’s fingers flit over the damp fabric, apply only the lightest pressure, enough that Kylo feels more slick gather, her pussy tender and so sensitive even the barely there brush of fingers is almost enough to bring her off, almost, but not quite, and whenever she tries to grind against those fingers, shift just enough they’ll be pressed against her poor neglected clit, Hux shifts them aside, pulls them away and rubs them against the soft fold of skin at Kylo’s thigh, skirts them alongs the edge of the lace

 

“Behave yourself,” she whispers harshly as she reaches back and grabs two fistsfulls of Kylo’s ass, squeezes her fingers and yanks Kylo forward, their bodies pressed so flush Kylo has no hope of squirming her way into contact where she so desperately wants it.

 

“Please,” she begs, and it sounds like a sob.

 

“I said behave,” Hux tells her firmly, and punctuates it with a firm slap to her ass, but mercifully she hooks her fingers in the panties and pushes them down over the curve of Kylo’s hips and lets them fall. The touch of cold air over her heated skin does nothing to cool her, only ratchets the twisting coil of want in her belly even tighter and when Hux falls gracefully to her knees she wonders for a brief moment if she’s hallucinating from a vicious combination of not being able to breathe and being to overtaken with want.

 

But Hux’s hands are too solid as they grasp her ankle and make Kylo raise it, balanced unsteadily on one shaky leg then the other as Hux helps her step out of the sodden tangle of the panties for it to be anything but reality. Hux’s hands bracket her hips and shove her back against the wall in a way that would be violent if Kylo weren’t so willing to be moved by Hux’s touch. Hux leans close, nose brushing the vee of dark, curly hair between her legs and Kylo shivers at the heated breath Hux blows against her, the warmth of her mouth so close to her throbbing clit.

 

Kylo wants to beg, plead for mercy, for something, but the words get lost in a sob and she can’t swim through the heady cloud of arousal to try and find new ones.

 

“It wouldn’t take anything at all, would it?” Hux asks, glancing up at Kylo from beneath her lashes. “Just a touch and you’d be done. It’d be so simple, wouldn’t it?” She teases, voice deep and honeyed, and Kylo tries to buck her hips forward but Hux holds her steady. Hux blows another slow breath against the heated folds of her labia. Kylo cries out, head thunking back against the wall.

 

Hux gives a throaty laugh and Kylo’s too far gone to understand why until she feels the heat of Hux pull away, the brush of hair against her thighs and the touch of Hux’s cheeks disappearing as Hux rises back to her feet.

 

“Please,” Kylo whimpers out, body quivering with the pleasure stolen from her, muscles pulled taut as bowstrings, waiting for release. “Please, I can’t-” Kylo twists her hands in the fabric of her skirt. It would be so easy, _so easy_ , to let go of the fabric and touch herself. She’s so close to the edge it wouldn’t take more than a firm touch to her swollen clit, she could do it before Hux could even stop her, end this torture, but it wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t be the same, _wouldn’t be Hux_.

 

“Quiet,” Hux commands, and it takes Kylo several seconds to bite back the high keen in her throat, and when she finally manages she’s surprised by how wet her inhaled breath is, startled when she blinks and there’s moisture in her eyes. “Good girl,” Hux croons, and cups a hand to Kylo’s cheek.

 

She closes her eyes and nuzzles into the contact, body still buzzing with want but tries to focus on the gentle affection until she feels like she can draw a full breath again, ragged though it is. Hux touches her thumb to Kylo’s lip, tugs, and her mouth falls open at the silent command.  Hux holds her other hand up and it takes Kylo’s eyes a moment to focus in the dim light, to pull her attention from Hux’s hand cradling her face and the finger brushing along her lip.

 

Her panties, twisted into a neat, tight little ball. “What-” she begins, and then Hux is stuffing the wadded up fabric into her mouth. She almost chokes, the fabric instantly pulling any moisture from her mouth, and her jaw feels sore and aching already, stretched around the makeshift gag. She makes a muffled noise, a protest, a question, she’s not even sure, but Hux’s hand cups her chin and snaps her jaw shut.

 

“I said be quiet.”

 

Kylo nods, tries to work up spit into her parched mouth, her tongue sticking to the fabric as the taste of damp silk and her own wetness floods her mouth but she chokes on the fabric again, gives a few muffled coughs until she feels like she can breathe.

 

“Alright?” Hux asks, dropping her hand, and Kylo knows if she said no, that she couldn’t take it, Hux would let her take them out. Stupidly, she nods. “Good,” Hux says, and with a final soft stroke of Kylo’s cheek she turns abruptly and heads back down the hallway. She stops at the top of the stairs, hand on the railing, and looks over her shoulder at Kylo, who’s desperately trying to calm her fluttering heart but with the fabric sitting heavy on her tongue she doesn’t seem able to draw a deep enough breath. “Come along, Miss Ren. I need to get back to work. I’ll find you when I’m done,” and then without waiting longer Hux disappears down the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway finally giving Kylo the strength to try and walk.

 

Hux is waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Kylo finally navigates down them on legs that feel more liquid than muscle and bone but as soon as she’s relocked the door Hux is walking off, back toward the front of the library.

 

It’s only when Kylo gets to her table that she realizes she doesn’t have her bag with her and has no idea where it is. The thought of retracing her steps, of walking back through all her classes and trying to find it, especially with the makeshift gag in her mouth, makes her want to cry in frustration, compounded by the fact that her body still aches for release. Thankfully, she’s saved from the plight but someone clearing their throat behind her.

 

It’s not Hux as she hoped, but Mitaka, awkwardly holding her bag out to her and shuffling his feet, eyes down as he studies his ugly shoelaces. “Miss Hux asked me to give this to you,” he says in a way that makes Kylo think he rehearsed the words the entire time he was walking to her. “You left it up at the front desk.”

 

Kylo grabs it, pulls it tight to her chest, and almost starts to thank him on instinct before she recalls all the fabric taking up space in her mouth. She nods her thanks and he gives her an odd look but scurries off like a servant who’s just delivered bad news and fears retribution for it.

 

Even with the privacy her table affords Kylo has always been used to listening for any approaching people, students going in search of a book or staff putting away returns, but it’s worse now, knowing she can’t speak, and every time someone comes close enough for her to notice her back tenses, heart racing at the thought they may try to talk to her.

 

How humiliating would it be if someone discovered her, sitting still and trying her best to be good, dirty panties stuffed into her mouth making it ache, mouth gone dry and throat parched while she stubbornly refuses to just duck into the bathroom and spit them out because that would disappoint Hux.

 

The fear of being caught  does nothing for the heat between her legs. Now when she shifts instead of lace there’s only bare skin, her thighs sticking together with the slick she’s producing, and Kylo swears she can smell the heat of her own arousal, is sure if she could taste anything other than silk and lace and satin the earthen flavour of her own wetness would lie heavy on her tongue.

 

She’s far too wound up to concentrate, the book in front of her open only for show, as an excuse to sit there and pretend she’s studying, not rocking back and forth and clenching her thighs together despite the fact that while it works her up she knows there’s no relief to be found, not without a hand or a mouth. All she’s doing is winding herself into knots with no promise of ever toppling over that edge like she so desperately wants.

 

Hux, she’s sure, would be pleased.

 

By the time Hux finally comes for her Kylo is exhausted. She’s worked her body into such a state that she feels as if her very cells are vibrating, her hair is curling with sweat and the dress is clinging to her back. She feels like there’s a puddle between her legs and as diligent as she’s tried to be about wiping any saliva away that drips from her mouth she knows there’s some crusted in the corners.

 

If her body weren’t wounds do tight, teetering on a hair trigger, her mind might have drifted away, slipped off on a wave of _be good for Hux be good for Hux be good for Hux._ But everything is too raw, too real, too much for her thoughts to slip into the comforting lull of blankness they sometimes do, that space where nothing matters more than earning Hux’s praise.

 

Her body is worn out and she’s upright only because she’s braced her forearms on the table. She’s been rocking back and forth, riding the knife’s edge of too-much-not-enough and while her cunt still throbs and drips her legs are tired and sore from flexing, muscles twitching randomly with exhaustion, and all she can do is sit there and stew, try to keep her spit in her mouth and curl her hands into fists so she’s not tempted to finally bring herself off and _end this._

 

She’s so lost to the sensations warring in her body that she doesn’t hear Hux’s heels clacking on the ground, doesn’t see her, too focused on clinging to her rapidly slipping composure. She startles when a hand lands on her neck, but Hux leans closes and Kylo inhales as deep a breath she can manage, senses filled with the scent of Hux’s perfume and layered just underneath the salt of skin and warmth of Hux’s pulse.

 

“What a good girl you’ve been for me,” she praises, and Kylo shudders.

 

The chair screeches on the floor a Hux pulls it back, echoing around the high ceilings and panic seizes Kylo- what if someone comes?-, she grabs for Hux wildly, hand closing on her arm, and as she turns pleading eyes to her Hux bends low and brushes a kiss over the top of her head. “It’s alright,” she assures. “My sweet girl, calm down. It’s late. We’re almost empty.”

 

Hux steps in front of her, falls to her knees for the second time this evening, barely clear of the table, and slowly drags her palms up Kylo’s thighs, parts them with gentle pressure and rucks the skirt of her dress up as she goes. “My sweet, sweet girl. You’ve been so good. I think you’ve finally earned your reward.”

 

The shallow sips of air she’s been taking suddenly stop, snag in her throat, as Hux lifts her skirt high and ducks her head below the hem. A pointed gust of air, right at the heated center of her, makes her hips jerk and she moans, teeth biting into the fabric in her mouth as her jaw, carefully held open so as not to damage the delicate fabric, finally flexes closed.

 

Hux draws back, just enough to peek her head over the hem of Kylo’s dress. “I said the library is mostly empty, Miss Ren. Please be quiet.” Hux taps a finger to Kylo’s clenched jaw, as if to remind Kylo of the now spit-soaked panties stuffed in her mouth, as if she could forget.

 

She wraps her hands around the side of the chair, squeezes them so hard her nails dig gouges in the cheap plastic as Hux presses her face against Kylo’s cunt again. Another breath of air and then finally, _finally_ , glorious pressure, the flat of Hux’s tongue dragging agonizingly slowly over the sensitized nub of her clit.

 

She can’t help all the noises she makes but she keeps most of them low and the fabric muffles them. It doesn’t take long, a few slow swipes of Hux’s tongue, a gentle suggestion of teeth as she catches Kylo’s clit with her lips and sucks. She’s close, so close, and she’s not even sure it will feel good, her nerves feel scraped bare, exposed, but the thought of being denied release any longer is unbearable.

 

Hux’s mouth releases her and is quickly replaced by her hand. She rubs her thumb firmly over her poor abused clit and slide two fingers in the wetness gathering at her pussy. And then she fits her mouth over the fleshy give of Kylo’s thigh and digs her teeth in, yanks on the skin and Kylo hovers, so close to the edge, terrified for one horrible moment that she’s been strung along so long her body’s forgotten _how_ , before her orgams crashes through her, thighs clenching on Hux’s shoulders and she hears a crack that she’ll realize later is the plastic slat of the chair’s seat breaking under her grip.  

 

Hux is humming softly, perched on the edge of the table and leaning forward, one hand running through Kylo’s hair, when she blinks and the world resolves itself again. She offers a small smile and taps two fingers to the hinge of Kylo’s jaw. Kylo blinks at her again, confused, and Hux huffs a small laugh. “You can spit them out now.” The words don’t quite make sense but somehow she processes them enough to know that when Hux’s thumb traces along the seam of her lips it’s alright to open them, to let Hux pluck the soaked, twisted fabric from her mouth.

 

“I’m sorry, I think I ruined them,” she says when she’s finally worked enough moisture into her mouth to talk. Hux shakes her head, brushes a kiss against Kylo’s temple.

 

“It’s alright. I think we ruined them together. I can always buy you more.”

 

“Oh,” is all she finds it in herself to say as Hux tucks the sopping fabric into her pocket and pulls Kylo forward, face pressed against the soft sweater covering Hux’s belly while she strokes her hair.

 

When Kylo finally feels returned to herself she gently pulls away from Hux’s touch and Hux lets her go easily with a final stroke to her hair, slouches back in the chair and sighs, boneless. She glances down and notices that Hux must have rearranged her skirt without Kylo noticing. Anyone who walked by would have no idea what happened.

 

Kylo chews on her lip while Hux studies her, both silent, before a thought seizes her and she smiles. Hux’s lips quirk up and she tilts her head just so, silently asking _what?_

 

“Will I get in trouble if I wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day?”

 

Hux barks out a short, startled laugh. “No,” she says with a shake of her head as she slides from her perch on the table. “No, you won’t.” She crouches to pick up Kylo’s bag, slings it over her own shoulder and holds a hand out for Kylo. “C’mon. Let’s head home.” Kylo takes the offered hand and uses it to pull her still too relaxed body upright. She staggers and only finds her balance when she’s pressed up against Hux.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kylo,” Hux tells her and kisses her sweetly before they walk back to the front of the library.

 

Kylo waits by the door, pulling on her jacket and pressing the wrinkles out of her dress while she and Mitaka studiously avoid meeting each other’s eyes while Hux makes a quick detour into her office and emerges bundled into her coat.

 

When Kylo buckles her seatbelt and looks over at Hux she’s surprised to see her digging through the deep pockets of her coat instead of starting the car. She watches curiously while Hux shifts around and searches all her pockets before she finally finds what she wants, giving a soft little “ah-ha” that Kylo knows she would deny if she knew how cute Kylo thought it was.

 

She tosses the object she pulls out to Kylo, who fumbles it in her still clumsy fingers before she finally manages to drop it on her lap. “Chocolate?” She asks, incredulous, as the red foil crinkles under her fingers.

 

“Open it,” Hux says as she looks over her shoulder and backs out of her parking spot. “Late night snack,” she tells Kylo, flashing her a grin.

 

“First a milkshake, now chocolate. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a sweet tooth.” She slips a nail under a flap in the wrapping, pulls it off noisily and, at a loss, stuffs the crumpled up wrapping in a cupholder. She lifts the lid up and holds it out to Hux, who glances down and indiscriminately grabs one and pops it in her mouth while continuing to drive.

 

“It’s good,” Hux pronounces, the treat tucked against the corner of her mouth and she looks not like a stern librarian but rather like a small child trying to smuggle treats. “Have some,” she finishes as she swallows and reached for another.

 

“Did someone give you these?” Kylo picks one out at random and nibbles the corner of it. Hux is right, they’re good, so she places it on her tongue, lets the rich flavor flood her mouth as it slowly dissolves.

 

“Yes,” Hux starts, and the pauses. “I’m not quite sure who, though. Is that bad? Should I not eat the chocolate if I can’t even remember who gave it to me?” She asks with a wince.

 

“Maybe,” Kylo agrees, the picks another chocolate up. “But I won’t tell.” Kylo shrugs. “Not like I’d know. No one’s ever given me chocolate before.”

 

“Hey,” Hux protests, darting a look of mock anger at her. “I gave you a pair of very fancy knickers.”

 

“Knickers?” Kylo teases, affecting a terrible accent. “Aren’t we posh? I always just called them panties.”

 

“Oh, be quiet,” Hux scolds her, but there's no venom in the words, only fondness. They roll to a slow stop at a light and Hux leans over, and, like a magnet, hopelessly attracted, Kylo bends toward her without being told. The kiss Hux gives her is soft and gentle and tastes of chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, these are the panties Hux buys for Kylo
> 
> https://www.laperla.com/us/cfiplm0008320-nrb010.html
> 
> I hope the scenes I meant to be humorous actually were funny.
> 
> And in case anyone is interested this song
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWB0AHhtjUE
> 
> has very much become my soundtrack for writing this. 
> 
> Please consider leaving a kudos or a comment! Feedback makes my day!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it's been so long, but if anyone's still reading this I'm happy to finally have another chapter for you.
> 
> If you notice the chapter count has gone up. I originally had a lot more planned for this chapter, but it just kinda kept growing, so I've decided to split it into two chapters.
> 
> Again, I apologize that it's been so long, and I hope you enjoy!

**A. Hux: Do you have any plans tonight?**

Spring has finally broken winter’s hold and Kylo’s sitting on the steps of the lecture hall her next class is in, munching on a granola bar and sipping coffee in an attempt to stay awake through the ninety minute lecture waiting for her, enjoying the sun on her face even if it is still a little bit too chilly to really be sitting outside but the air smells of growing green things and the last piles of dirty, grey snow have finally melted, leaving behind grass that is mostly dead but slowly turning greener every day.

Han had been texting her pictures of the dogs, something he’s taken to doing as a cover for giving her life updates- a picture of a forlorn looking Cee-Three staring at the door followed by the caption of ‘Missing Leia while she’s off campaigning’, or a pile of all three dogs on top of a man, only a graying tuft of once blonde and an arm visible with the text ‘Luke stopped by on his travels and the dogs were happy to see him’ that had made her giggle- and her phone had been sitting on her knee when it buzzed. She had been expecting a response to her request that Han give all the dogs extra scratches from her, perhaps a suggestion that maybe during the summer she could come back for a couple of days and give the dogs scratches herself, an invitation she was surprised to realize she would welcome, that since Christmas, as impossible as it sometimes seemed, she missed her family.

It’s not Han.

She stares dumbly at her phone after she reads the text. Hux had messaged her last night telling her that she was coming in late to the library today and by the time she got there Kylo would already be in class so there was no need to try to meet early. It was so out of character for Hux, who seemed to need those quiet hours in the library by herself with only the books and occasionally Kylo for company that she had started imagining all the terrible reasons Hux could be late and asked if everything was alright.

**No,** Hux had responded. **My father’s in town and insisting we get breakfast. I’ll see you after your classes?**

Confused, because she thought they had already agreed to see each other this evening, Kylo responds that her only plans involves the library, and Hux, although she doesn’t say that last part, before she notices the time and with a curse shoves everything haphazardly into her bag and scrambles up the stairs and into the building. She beats the professor there by seconds and grabs an empty desk, tucked far enough in the back that she can discreetly check her phone before tucking it away.

There’s one message waiting for her, a single word, and it sends a shiver through her even as the air seems suddenly warmer.

**A. Hux: Good.**

Kylo reads the word and it seems to echo in her head in Hux’s voice, that low, throaty whisper she saves for when they’re alone, when she has bent Kylo to her will, shaped her with her hands into exactly what she wants and praises Kylo with those words that always leave her shaking.

The hour and a half of class is a waste, the words lost to her because all she can hear is Hux telling her she’s a good girl, unable to focus when her thoughts are filled with memories of Hux’s hands on her, whispering sweet orders in her ear she’s only too eager to obey. Kylo crosses her legs and squeezes them tight, relishing the spike of pleasure it shoots through her, the way her clit throbs at the nowhere near intense enough pressure. She shifts and flexes her muscles again, stomach fluttering in pleasure before she takes a deep, steadying breath and forces herself to uncross her legs.

Even if she was brave enough to get herself off in public it seems wasted when she’s only a few hours away from seeing Hux.

Instead she opens her notes and stares at them, determined to at least seem like she’s paying attention even as she grits her teeth and tries to ignore the arousal burning in her veins, the way the seam of her leggings rubs against her, the demanding throb of her clit and the wetness soaking between her thighs. Every shift seems a tease, a brush of pleasure, and she sinks her teeth into the soft skin of her cheek, worries it until the metallic tang of copper fills her mouth and lays heavy on her tongue.

When she finally gets to leave she swears the scent of arousal clings to her, worries that everytime some stranger’s eyes linger just seconds too long to be a passing glance that they somehow know she’s soaked her leggings halfway down her thighs with wetness, the fabric chafing with every hurried step she takes that brings her closer to Hux. The warm sun that was not quite enough to ward off chilly spring air before now overheats her, a flush she can feel creeping across her face and down her neck, disappearing into the collar of her shirt and crawling down her chest, staining even her belly a strawberry red.

The air of the library is usually a comfort, smelling of books, brittle paper and old glue, quietly loud in the way a space occupied by lots of bodies always is, the rustle of notebooks and the scratch of pens, but today her nerves are live wires jumping under her skin and the only thing that can calm them is Hux herself.

The sight of Mitaka at the circulation desk, Hux nowhere in sight, makes her want to weep.

He blinks, once, twice, at her, and Kylo realizes she must look wild, hair even more tousled than usual from twisting her fingers in it in a vain attempt to ground herself, eyes glassy and dark with need, face flushed in a way the sun can’t be blamed for. He looks away, red blooming high on his cheeks, and stares at the laminate desktop as he mumbles “Ms. Hux wanted me to tell you to meet her in her office.” He gestures weakly behind him, still refusing to look at her.

She wonders how he manages to work with Hux every day.

“Right, thanks,” she says, trying to pretend her heart isn’t pounding at the mention of Hux’s office. Thankfully there’s no one else at the desk to witness their awkward moment and she strides around the corner with as much confidence as she can muster with suddenly shaking legs.

She hesitates at the door, trying to peek in through the small frosted glass window with a hand on the doorknob as she debates if she should just walk on in or knock first. Finally she decides to rap a short beat, knuckles tapping to the pounding of blood in her ears, and when Hux’s voice calls out “Come in,” her pulse stutters, fingers gone weak with excitement even though she last saw Hux only two days ago.

Hux is sitting at her desk, industriously tapping away on her keyboard and the sight of her fine boned hands, the same hands that are wickedly cruel and unbearably soft in turn moving so gracefully makes her mouth go dry. She knows exactly what those hands feel like, the sharp bite of nails into flesh and the bruises that seem almost muscle deep those delicate fingers can leave.

Hux spares her the smallest glance, eyes flicking to her before returning to her work. “Strip,” she commands, the word sharp and succinct, the syllable almost spit off her tongue and Kylo drops her bag off her shoulder, fingers fumbling on the slippery material of her shirt in her haste to obey before she manages to get a good enough grasp to pull it over her head.

Kylo lets it hang off her arms before it puddles on the ground, shaking her displaced curls out of her face until she can see Hux, keyboard clacking as her fingers strike the keys and she’d seem immune to the sight of Kylo before her except for the tiniest curl to her lip.

It’s a struggle to peel her leggings off, sticky with arousal they cling to her legs and fight her as she rolls them down, toeing off the same pair of beaten up purple Converse she’s been wearing in warm weather since she found them almost new in a thrift store three years ago before she can push them off. Kylo takes a moment to breathe, sips in the slightly cool air in the hopes it will settle the heat in her, lets the air settle on her until her skin prickles and the blush she’s been wearing is chased away.

The silence from lack of movement makes Hux finally look up and Kylo quickly exhales, almost choking on her breath and trying to pull her stomach in and her shoulders back to make herself look as slim as possible, ducking her head so she doesn’t have to watch Hux examine her, self consciousness slamming into her with the biting reminder that her body will always be lacking, be soft and sagging where it should be taut and toned.

“Stop that,” Hux scolds, pushing her chair back from her desk, but the words are soft, like a barely there caress. Kylo whines, torn between the desire to obey, to bend to Hux’s will, and the heated shame in knowing she has no right. Hux, for all her tender tortures, is never cruel, never pushes so hard Kylo will break in such a way she can’t put her back together, and the certainty that Hux would never mock her, not for this, wars with the bone deep knowledge that she doesn’t deserve to stand around naked and unashamed.

She tracks Hux’s slow steps toward her, breath hitching with every step closer until Hux is right beside her, a hand reaching out slowly, broadcasting intent before Hux lays it slowly on her arm, dragging her palm up to cup around Kylo’s shoulder. Hux draws her close, settling against Kylo’s back, and trails her hands down her sides to rest on her waist. “Look,” Hux whispers, and she’s helpless but to obey, to open eyes she hadn’t even realized were closed to look down at the swell of her stomach. Her breath stutters out at the sight, Hux’s hands splayed on her waist, fingers stretched across her pale skin. And there, scattered across her hips and the curve of her waist, on the milky skin of her breasts, are bruises, some deep and dark and some just starting to turn a sickly yellow and some almost faded, nothing left of them but a faint feathering darkness, but all of them match the press of Hux’s hands, or the ring of her teeth.

She had forgotten somehow, how well she fit in Hux’s hands, how easily she wore Hux’s colors, inky purples and thin red scratched displayed as marks of ownership.

“Close your eyes.” It’s easy, to let them drift closed, not like before, in an attempt to hide, but to center her even more firmly in the moment. “Breathe in,” Hux says, and she does, lips parting as her ribcage expands, stomach pressing against the cage of Hux’s hands but it doesn’t feel confining and Hux hums to let her know she’s pleased. “And out.” As her lungful of air flows out Kylo feels her muscles relax, her nervousness slipping away with her breath and she sags back against Hux, let’s Hux’s arms squeeze her tight and take her weight. “I thought we had settled this but if I need to say it again I will- I like your body. I like the way it feels against me, the way you fit in my hands.” She moans, at the words, at Hux’s fingers dipping just barely into the waistband of her panties, shifts her hips in an attempt to coax those fingers down further, to the burning core of her, the kernel of desire that had been extinguished by her doubts suddenly roaring back to life.

“Please,” she moans, the word choked off as Hux’s fingers stroke through the tangle of her pubic hair.

“Please what?” Hux teases, fingers walking lower until they brush against the warm folds of skin and slide through the slickness collecting there. “Oh, dirty girl. Were you in class thinking filthy things when you should’ve been paying attention?”

She chokes on her answer, thoughts a hazy red cloud of desire, unable to focus on anything but Hux’s fingers sliding in between her labia, parting the skin just enough to dip into her. The sharp snap of skin on skin startles her before her nerves light up, the skin of her ass throbbing where Hux’s other hand has smacked into it. She yelps at the second strike, hips jerking forward with the force and it drives Hux’s fingers deeper into her, she’s so wet two slide in with no resistance.

A third hit and Hux’s fingers slip out of her and she whimpers at the loss, trying to squirm her way into contact but instead of showing mercy Hux’s free hand cinches tight around her waist and holds her close. Each time Hux’s hand lands she gasps and moans, the throbbing heat of pain blurring into swells of pleasure until she’s helpless to do anything but hang in Hux’s arms.

The final sharp smack leaves her breathless, gasping for air, and Hux’s hand lingers on the smarting red skin just long enough the heat becomes almost unbearable before she lets go and uses the hand to turn Kylo’s face toward her, catching her in a kiss which is artless with Kylo’s looseness, too undone by the singing of her skin to do more than open her mouth to Hux’s touch and give into the desire burning in the core of her.

“Good girl,” Hux whispers, and Kylo glows at the praise.

Hux slowly releases her, a steadying hand remaining on her elbow until she’s sure Kylo won’t fall. She takes a stumbling step when Hux finally lets her go but manages to right herself, and Hux’s satisfied look at leaving her a trembling mess makes her blush.

“Finish,” Hux says, nodding to the panties still clinging to her and she shuffles out of the rest of her clothes while Hux fetches something from her top desk drawer and as she walks back Kylo’s breath catches as she runs a length of beautiful, deep red rope between her fingers, twisting it back and forth until it’s interwoven with her fingers. Her heart pounds when Hux is near enough that the scent of her perfume, always laying so close to her skin, overwhelms her senses and leaves her swaying. Kylo whines when Hux trails an end of the rope down her arm, the slippery material cool at first but quickly warming to her skin, so much like Hux’s touch that it leaves her shaking.

Hux folds the length in half and loops it over Kylo’s neck, fussing with it until it’s settled low on the nape of her neck, fingers busy making sure there’s no hair caught underneath. Her movements are unhurried and sure, no hesitation as she hitches a knot in the rope, making sure it lies perfectly right below the swell of Kylo’s breasts. “Alright?” Hux asks, letting go of the rope to trail a hand up Kylo’s side, shivery good.

“Yeah,” she says, the word a dry rasp. “It’s good.” Hux hums and leaves a trail of kisses down the column of Kylo’s neck, lips smearing on her skin and making her heart thud before picking up the hanging ends of the rope again.

At a tap to her inner thigh Kylo spreads her legs and the brush of fingers and rope over her swollen labia makes her feel dizzy with pleasure. Hux has passed the rope between her legs, nestled in the crease of skin on her thighs and tucked between her legs, steady pressure against her throbbing parts and she already knows every step will be a tease, a constant press against her sensitive flesh that will never actually rub against her clit no matter how she twists. Somehow Hux maneuvers behind her without losing her grip on the rope and catches the ends under the loop resting on her neck, gently tugging the slack out. “Stand up straight,” Hux orders, but it takes her hand against Kylo’s sternum, guiding her to stand tall for her to obey, too lost in the embrace of the rope to decipher the instructions without guidance. “Alright? Not too tight?” All she can do is moan, words meaningless, and arch her back, just enough that the ropes between her legs pull tight, biting into the soft skin and pressing against the throbbing ache of her pussy, wetness leaking down her thighs.

There’s a sharp slap of skin hitting skin and the noise pulls her from her daze before the burn in her cheek registers, a pulsing pain that she knows will leave a mark for longer than it actually hurts. “Pay attention,” Hux hisses, hand resting on Kylo’s heaving chest, thumb pressing into the dip of her throat with just enough pressure to keep her centered. “This is important,” Hux tells her, playfully dirty tone dropped in favor of steel in her words. “Are the ropes too tight?”

With a still stinging cheek she shifts and tries not to concentrate on the way the ropes rub against her but instead on the way they pull, rolls her shoulders and can’t help the catch of her breath when it presses her up against Hux, her bonds stretching tight against her, before she lets out a ragged breath and nods. “Not too tight.”

Hux rewards her with a kiss dropped to her shoulder and a soft “Good girl.” Kylo struggles to remain in the moment instead of floating away, as if the ropes and Hux will hold her together so she can escape her body, knowing it’s in capable hands. Instead she concentrates not on the slashes of red rope against her skin but the flutter of Hux’s hands, winding the rope around her, catching it in the knot in front before pulling it back behind again, the way each time she hitches a new knot she slips two fingers behind it and pulls just enough to check the give, steady voice a grounding wire for Kylo’s driftless thoughts, her eyes opening each time Hux checks the bindings aren’t too tight.

She doesn’t know how long it takes, hazy minutes she can’t track slipping by, but when Hux is done ropes are twisted around her torso, slotting into the dip of her rips and pressing against her stomach, stopping just before the swell of her hips. When she looks down the length of her body, the careful web Hux has tied her into, she distantly notices the way the soft skin of her stomach presses against the ropes, rolls of flesh hanging over the ties, but it’s a vague thought, one she recognizes as something embarrassing before shuffling it off to the side, taking a deep breath just to feel the ropes constrict around her, satisfied in her knowledge that the knots will leave deep marks in her skin.

Hux steps back and studies her for a moment, green eyes moving over her handwork with satisfaction before she reaches out and hauls Kylo close with hands twisted in the ropes, every knot digging in as she yanks Kylo into a hungry, sloppy kiss, teeth nipping perfect points of pain against her lip.

They’re both panting when Hux lets go, wiping a hand against her mouth as Kylo stumble back until she thuds against the wall, wondering exactly how obscene of a picture she paints, wearing nothing but the bonds Hux put her in, hair wild and body shaking while she heaves panting breaths that press her ribs against the embrace of the ropes.

“Right,” Hux finally says, breaking the silence and the stare they’ve held. Kylo can’t suppress the flutter in her belly at the shake in Hux’s voice even if her stride as she walks to her desk is as sure as ever.

There’s a box sitting at the corner of Hux’s desk that she goes to, lifts the lid off and parts the crinkling tissue paper to lift a heap of black fabric out of it and cradle it gently in her hands. She shakes it out when she’s back in front of Kylo, the black fabric slithering down to take the shape of a dress.

“Is that-” Kylo starts to ask before she swallows the question. It’s clearly not Hux’s size and she knows Hux would never be caught in something so ill fitted for her, but it also looks too tight for Kylo. The fabric will pull, stretch thin and tight over her curves, show every lump on roll of her skin.

And- her heart seems to stop beating- the twist of ropes and knots covering her will be pulled into sharp relief, bulges against the black fabric she won’t even be able to pretend no one can see.

“I, I, I don’t think that will fit,” she protests, words stuttered out.

“Are you doubting my eye for fashion?” Hux asks, taking a step toward her, like a jungle cat getting ready to pounce. She pulls down the zipper in the back, a quiet noise that fills the space between them, and holds it out. “Come now, I can’t take you out looking like that. You’ll look beautiful.”

Kylo looks away from the dress hanging from Hux’s hands to the woman herself, startled.

When was she last called beautiful? Leia always couched her comments in such ways to make it clear that Kylo was only acceptable due to Leia’s intervention, told she looked lovely only because the clothes she wore were ones of Leia’s choosing. Her past partners had made it clear that while parts of her were pleasing some of her body was just flat out unacceptable.

Hux stands there, dress held out in clear offering, but doesn’t push, doesn’t argue or try to tell Kylo she has to and she knows, with a certainty she can feel in her bones, that Hux won’t push the issue, that if she said no she could pull her leggings and ratty shirt back on and Hux would never bring this up again, wouldn’t wait until later, when she’s weak and vulnerable to bring this up to remind her what a disappointment she is.

Kylo takes a deep breath and steps away from the wall.

“Help me?” She asks, the words plantive, and Hux slants her a soft smile.

“Of course,” Hux, agrees. “Hold your hands up,” then darkness as Hux slips the dress over her head, pulling it down and straightening it before catching the zipper pull and tugging it up in one smooth motion.

There’s no mirror so all she can see is when she tilts her head down. The dress fits surprisingly well, snug but not tight, fitted in a way that would leave her impressed by how flattering it was if she could focus on anything but the latticework of rope and knots the fabric clings to. There’s no way she can even pretend they might look like a medical brace or something innocent to others- they’re very clearly ropes.

“C’mon on now,” Hux nudges with a hand to her back, spurring her into taking a tentative step forward. “Shoes. We don’t want to be late.”

She doesn’t ask late for what, can’t ask. Words are lost, useless, when all she can focus on is the tug and pull of ropes against her when she moves, their restraining touch visible through the dress. The thought of going anywhere past the door, of being seen like this by anyone other than Hux, makes her burn with twin flames of desire and embarrassment, the idea of being seen so marked, of wearing Hux’s touch on her body in such a way that everyone can see, and as heat crawls in her she wonders how she’s expected to survive this.

She’s so overwhelmed with focusing on the constriction, the way each deep breath digs the knots in just a little deeper and she’s wondering if they’ll leave bruises, deep blooming marks where they bite into her skin that she’ll be able to look at and connect like constellations that she actually stumbles over the shoes she kicked off, gets tangled in the laces and nearly trips. When she bends to grab them the ropes between her legs pull tight, digging up into her with a pressure that makes stars burst in her vision and she nearly falls over, has to brace herself with a hand on her knee and regain her breath before she even feels steady enough to straighten.

Somehow she had forgotten how wet she is. She wonders if it’ll run down her legs, soak her dress.

Then Hux is there, slipping gracefully to her knees and sliding shoes on Kylo’s feet, tying up the laces with quick fingers. Taking in the sight of Hux crouched before her, the expensive dress she’s wearing and then her beaten up chucks makes her laugh suddenly, a noise that verges on frenzied.

Hux’s fingers are chilled as she runs them up Kylo’s legs, up under the hem of her dress and brings cool fingers to press against the burning heat of her cunt, swiping through the wetness and flitting teasingly over her clit in a way that makes her sob before sliding back down, trailing slickness with them, her fingers glistening. “What’s so amusing?” She asks, ducking her head to bite a mark high up on Kylo’s leg, one that leaves her already unsteady legs trembling and she pitches forward, has to catch herself with her hands on Hux’s narrow shoulders.

“Shoes,” she stumbles out. “Don’t exactly go with the dress.” Saying it aloud sends her into giggles again, every emotion simmering so close to her surface that every passing one overtakes her, helpless to fight against it.

“I can’t have you uncomfortable now, can I?” Hux asks, rising back to her feet and settling her hand at Kylo’s back, fingers twisting the fabric of her dress to grasp a knot and coaxing Kylo into shaking steps forward. She tries to hesitate when Hux opens the door but Hux just propels her onward, firmly refusing to let her stop, hand only finally dropping away when she turns to lock the door.

Mitaka whips his head away as soon as he spots them and even though he’s been unable to look at Kylo since that morning months ago when he saw them kissing she’s immediately convinced he knows, that everyone they pass can tell she’s tied tight and bound beneath her dress, her panties and bra still discarded on Hux’s floor, breasts bouncing slightly with every step, peaked nipples rubbing against the dress with slickness running down her thigh, nothing to catch it.

Hux is unbothered, wishing him a goodnight and giving him a few final directions despite his inability to look at her, a hand on Kylos arm keeping her rooted to the spot even though her every muscle is tense with the instinct to run, to hide herself away from the gazes of people she’s sure are looking at her.

Her knees lock when they reach the door, her body trembling with arousal and nerves, unable to force herself a step further. “Deep breath, Miss Ren,” Hux whispers, leaning close when she notices Kylo has stopped, the creaking of the door on it’s hinges a death knell as Hux slowly opens it. “Be a good girl now,” she coaxes, a firm push to her shoulder nudging Kylo forward. Her legs almost collapses, the rope rubbing against her, pulling and chafing and digging in, pressing into the too hot too wet throbbing mound of her labia, a bolt of pleasure that zips through her and leaves her shaking as soon as she steps past the door. “Steady now, stairs are next.”

Kylo swallows, looking down the steps that have never seemed intimidating before, that she’s always associated with good things, bringing her to Hux, but now seem an insurmountable obstacle, with every footfall making her breasts bounce, every step pulling the rope between her legs momentarily tighter, a fractured tease that is never going to be enough to but makes her blood burn hotter with every tug and pull.

They take the stairs slowly, Kylo testing every step with a slow rocking of her weight, unsure each step won’t be the one where her legs collapse. There are tears in her eyes when they reach the bottom, her sigh of relief turning into a sob when she realizes they still have to trek across campus to the garage.

Each step seems to take an eternity and she wants to fall to her knees, collapse on the ground and sob, the pleasure torturous, her face flaming hotter with every person they pass who gives her a concerned look. She would beg but it’s pointless- even if Hux were willing to show her mercy what could she do, out here in the open?

It’s amazing she can still stand by the time they reach Hux’s car, legs wobbly and unsure, every step faltering. She leans against the side, panting and shaking, clutching it to stay upright on legs that just want to collapse while Hux opens the door for her. Somehow she had forgotten that she’d have to actually get in the car and every shift, ducking and twisting and finally settling into the seat pulls a whimper from her, heart pounding so hard it drowns out everything else. When she sits the ties around her dig in, pulling when each hitch of her unsteady breath expands her torso, the ropes between her legs stretched even tighter, dizzying pressure that makes her vision go dark and the world fade into a haze, missing Hux closing the door and slipping into the driver’s side until she lays a hand on Kylo’s thigh, her fingers cool as always against Kylo’s burning skin.

“Do you want me to undo them?” Hux asks, tone neutral, and Kylo knows she can say yes, the she holds the power to free herself of this torture, but the only thing worse than wearing these damned ropes would be having them off.

How to explain? How to describe that every bite of the knots into her skin makes her shake and quiver and her entire body feel hot? To tell that every shift brings with it friction that would be unbearable if Hux weren’t the one asking her to bear it?

She swallows. “No, I, I want them on.”

The kiss Hux pulls her into is almost violent, full of nipping teeth that leaves her lips aching and her mouth smeared with lipstick and them both panting.

“Good girl,” Hux tells her, the words so primal they’re almost a snarl.

They don’t talk as Hux drives, the space filled only with Kylo’s harsh breaths and the little whimpers she can’t bite back every time Hux takes a curve or stops just a little too quickly, rocking in her seat and pulling the ropes, the ones between her legs riding perfectly against the folds of skin on her legs tugging with even the smallest of shifts. She thinks Hux mutters a curse under her breath but Kylo’s too overwhelmed to respond.

It’s only when Hux neatly pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine that Kylo truly registers Hux was taking her someplace, that there was a purpose to this drive other than just seeing how long Hux can torture her for. “Do you need a minute?” Hux asks, and her tone isn’t unkind but the question makes Kylo sob hysterically anyway.

She’s certain no amount of time could prepare her for whatever Hux has in mind.

“‘m fine,” she insists, the words breathless and Hux looks at her skeptically but climbs out of her seat regardless before she walks around to Kylo’s side and offers her a hand in getting out.

Hux keeps hold of her hand and loops Kylo’s arm in hers, escorts Kylo to the front door of the building she doesn’t really get a good look at, too busy trying to stand upright and not lean all her weight on Hux to take in much more than a short walkway lined with perfectly manicured bushes and heavy, oak doors that Hux pulls open to lead them inside.

Inside is plush carpet in deep red that Kylo can feel her shoes sink into, quiet, unobtrusive music while waiters in neat black outfits slip from table to table without disturbing the diners. Kylo knows she was flushed before, could feel the mottling of her skin, but she’s sure it’s even deeper now, standing in a restaurant she could never hope to afford in dirty sneakers, looking wild and untamed. The only things about her that look like they belong are the dress Hux put her in and the woman herself.

She tried to step away, slide her arm out of Hux’s with no real plan but the certainty that she doesn’t belong here, that all she’ll do is embarrass Hux and make a fool out of them both. She doesn’t want that, can’t stand the thought of watching as Hux realizes her mistake in bringing Kylo here. She attempts to slip aside and free herself from Hux’s hold but the movement jars her, the ropes pulling tight, and her knees falter, only held up by Hux’s quick tightening of her grip.

By some miracle they’re silent enough none of the other patrons look at them.

“Alright?” Hux asks, lips close, and Kylo almost agrees only because she’d do so much to keep Hux this close, sides pressed close, the waft of her subtle perfume filling Kylo’s nose.

But it’s not alright, she’s clearly out of place and Hux should be smart enough to realize but if she’s somehow overlooked the fact Kylo will just have to remind her, no matter how painful it’ll be to bare her failings any more than she already has.

“I don’t belong here,” she whispers, and tries not to look, doesn’t want to see Hux’s face when she realizes Kylo is right, that she severely miscalculated in thinking she could pass Kylo off as more than the poor, ratty college student she is.

“Nonsense,” Hux says, tucking a finger under Kylo’s chin to tilt her head up. “There’s no place you belong more than at my side.”

“Hux-” she chokes out, throat suddenly too tight, and there’s nothing but heat and adoration in Hux’s eyes, more than Kylo knows she deserves.

The moment breaks when a young woman with her hair pulled back into a neat bun steps up to them with a warm smile. “Table for two? Did you have a reservation?” She asks, voice cheerful but low enough not to carry and disturb the other tables.

“Yes,” Hux agrees, turning away to face the hostess but her arm stays linked with Kylo’s, thumb rubbing the pulse point of her wrist. “A. Hux, for six-thirty.”

“Yes, right, of course,” the woman confirms after consulting her ledger. “We just got your table ready. Follow me please.”

They walk after the woman, the plush carpet mercifully dampening the uneven candance of Kylo’s steps and as she seats them at a small table tucked into a quiet corner, lit with nothing but lamplight and candles if she notices Kylo’s short breaths she says nothing, just leaves them with their menus printed on heavy cream cardstock and a wine list full of names Kylo prays she won’t have to try to pronounce and a murmured reassurance that their serve will be with them shortly.

Hux helps Kylo into her chair and only releases her hold when she’s settled before stepping around to take her own seat.

Kylo takes what feels like her first deep breath in hours, since Hux told her to strip, closes her eyes to relish the woven pull of her rope prison and when she opens her eyes Hux is staring at her over top of the wine list with a look that makes her flush.

She fumbles for her menu, looks at the words without comprehending, and swallows. “Hungry?” She asks, the word a rushed breath, desperate for anything to stop Hux from looking at her like that, unsure her fracturing self control won’t shatter entirely and she’ll throw herself into Hux’s lap and beg if she tries to endure this much longer.

“Ravenous,” Hux teases, and the menu falls from Kylo’s weakened grasp as the sharp point of the toe of Hux’s shoe nudges the inside of her knee, pressing her legs apart. A waiter arrives in a pristine, crisply pressed button down and black slacks, hands crossed behind his back as he greets them and asks if they’re interested in anything off the wine menu. Hux smiles and orders something Kylo doesn’t follow because she presses even harder with her foot, forcing Kylo to widen her legs and try to stifle a gasp as smooth calfskin slides higher up her thigh before she clamps her knees together, Hux’s foot caught between her legs.

“Any thoughts on what you want?” Hux asks innocently, eyes quickly skimming over her own menu and a small tilt to her lips as Kylo can do nothing but whine, focus fractured and scattered. “Or would you like me to just order for you?” She asks pleasantly, casually, as if Kylo isn’t sitting across from her literally tied in knots with her cunt dripping. She picks up her glass of ice water with trembling hands and holds it against her temple, gasping at the sudden shock of cold against her overheated face. It makes her realize how hot she is, sweat dampening the hair at the nape of her neck.

Mercifully Hux seems to take pity on her and drops her foot, finally allowing Kylo to shuffle her legs back together, feeling less exposed even as shifting in her seat pulls the ropes and makes her gasp.

Their server returns with the wine and two glasses caught between his fingers that he carefully sets down on the table without even making a sound before he goes about the ritual of opening the bottle and tipping a small mouthful into one of the glasses before handing it to Hux. She takes it with a murmured thank you, and the sight of thin fingers wrapping around the stem makes Kylo’s mouth dry. Hux goes through the ritual of swirling the wine in her glass, inhaling the aroma as her eyelids flutter shut, before finally tasting it. It’s something Kylo’s seen done many times before, back when Leia used to drag her to nice restaurants and charity dinners to woo donors, before she finally realized Kylo was never going to be the perfect society daughter and decided it was easier to just give in and let her stay home but while before Kylo’s always thought it was faintly ridiculous, convinced the the potential donors Leia was courting were just performing the tasks to try to convince people they were more cultured than they are, Hux seems to take enjoyment from it, brow creasing faintly as the wine first hits her tongue before smoothing over in approval as the flavors bloom.

“Perfect,” she declares with a smile, and the server fills both their glasses with a generous pour while Hux pokes her tongue out to grab the lingering trace of wine still clinging to her lower lip. He asks if they’re ready to order and Hux flicks a glance at her and hesitates just long enough for Kylo to interject if she needs more time before she nods and it’s only when she quickly fires off an order of calamari and coq au vin that Kylo looks at the menu enough to realize they’re at an French restaurant.

She’s been a little preoccupied.

Hux stops and Kylo desperately looks at the menu, trying to find something she can pronounce so she won’t embarrass herself before the menu’s slid out of her hands and Hux smiles softly at her. “My companion will have French toast,” she declares, before handing the neatly stacked menus back. The waiter seems prepared to say something but closes his mouth. “With strawberries and whipped cream, thank you,” she finishes and the waiter must know he’s dismissed because he disappears quietly.

“I don’t think French toast was on the menu,” Kylo protests, but Hux ignores her comment and instead pushes her untouched wineglass a little closer.

“Cheers,” she offers, holding her own glass up, and Kylo scrambles to grab hers to return the toast, almost knocking it over in the process before clinking their glasses and taking a healthy swallow of what even to her untrained palate is a nice wine, sweet but not lingering. As soon as she sets her glass down Hux picks up the bottle and tops off the glass even though it’s nowhere near empty.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asks, the words slightly slurred but not because the wine has gone to her head. She’s sure she’s already drunk on pleasure, on the way the ropes pull and tug at her, on the way Hux’s eyes have stayed on her since they sat, simmering her blood.

Hux chuckles softly and slips from her chair across from Kylo to take the one next to her instead, leaning in close and skimming her fingers up Kylo’s thigh, making her shiver. “Really Miss Ren, I don’t think I have to try to get you to do anything,” she whispers, tucked up close so the words carry no farther than the two of them, breath damp and humid on Kylo’s ear, her nose brushing against her curls. One hand wraps around Kylo’s back and fists a knot through the fabric of her dress, tugs on it and the ropes pull tight, draw up, and Kylo’s forced to straighten with the sudden lack of slack as Hux trails her other hand farther up, under her hemline and brings fingers to rest so close to the quivering heat of her sex Kylo can feel the coolness of them. “I think all I have to do is ask,” she breathes, lips brushing against Kylo’s neck where she can feel her pulse kicking under the skin. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” she gasps, the word reedy. She closes her eyes. They’re tucked away in the corner and there’s a long heavy tablecloth hiding where Hux’s hands are but it still feels too public, to exposed, but if she closes her eyes there’s no one but Hux and herself, nothing but the pound of desire in her body and muscles coiled tight and the cling of ropes and Hux’s teasing touch, so so close.

“Yes,” Hux agrees, fingertips traveling ever closer to her aching pussy. “That’s what I thought. Because you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Are you my good girl, Kylo?”

Even biting her lip can’t keep her from moaning. She can’t see Hux’s face but she can imagine the triumphant look on it, that pleased tilt to her mouth, the faint crinkles at the corners of her eyes Kylo thinks she’d do anything for because she knows it means Hux is happy with her.

There’s a clatter of porcelain hitting the table, silverware shaking, right as Hux nips at her ear and she jerks away with a yip of pain, tilting sideways in her chair and almost falling off, the world spinning for a few seconds as she barely manages to catch herself with a flailing arm around the back of her chair and Hux discreetly tugging the rope she’s still fisting to drag her upright. When the world finally rights itself there’s a blonde woman standing at their table, arms crossed with a furious expression aimed at Hux, the glasses still rattling from where she pounded a fist on the table.

Hux seems unbothered.

“French toast isn’t french, Hux!” She shouts, and Kylo tries to sink back into her chair while Hux reaches for her wine and takes a small sip, apparently unbothered that she’s being shouted at by a muscular woman. “You can’t just order whatever the hell you want if it’s not on the menu.”

“I don’t think my date much cares for pretentious French food,” Hux replies, twirling the stem of her wine glass between her fingers.

“Pretentious French- you’re here once a damn week! Don’t pretend you don’t like the food!” The tables near them have all obviously stopped eating their meals to stare at their table and the showdown between the furious woman who Kylo figures must be a chef from her white shirt and apron and Hux, still seemingly unaffected.

“Oh, don’t forget the strawberries and whipped cream.”

“Hux,” the woman growls, voice low.

“Phasma,” Hux responds, with a smile.

“If it were anyone else I’d knock them out for thinking they could order off menu,” the woman, apparently Phasma, grouses, and drops her arms.

Hux laughs, light and airy, and rises from her chair to grasp Phasma’s hands in her own and pull her in to kiss her cheek, lips barely ghosting over it, not quite touching.”If it were anyone else your army of waiters never would’ve given you an off menu order to begin with.”

Kylo stares down at her hands, folded in her lap, and tries not to watch the two of them with a sick, twisting fascination. She had foolishly been thinking herself special, believing she possessed something that made Hux, who treated everyone else with nothing but cool professionalism, like her. But Hux had never shared this easy affection with her, had never laughed quite so loudly at something Kylo has said.

Whatever she is to Hux, she’s obviously been stupid enough to believe it something more than it is.

She shifts, tries to sink as far back in her chair as possible in an attempt to disappear, and the ropes slide across her body, pinching at her skin. For the first time since Hux wound them around her she wants them off, finds no comfort in them.

“Kylo?” She blinks up at Hux’s call, her name soft and worried and tries to find a smile to give, even if it’s weak. “I’m sorry, I should introduce you. This is my friend, Phasma.”

Han taught her the importance of a handshake long ago, said a handshake told you everything you needed to know about a person. She’s sure all of Han’s shady deals were sealed with one. And Leia of course shook countless hands while she was campaigning, from supporters to opponents she neatly tore down with words before politely bidding them goodbye with a dry clasp of hands.

Despite this she can’t work up more than a brief touch of Phasma’s outstretched hand and a muttered, “Hello.” Hux opens her mouth to say something, a furrow between her brow, and Phasma glances between the two of them and beats her to it.

“It’s good to meet you,” she greets, and continues on before Kylo has the chance to politely lie and agree. “Hux introduced me to my husband five years ago, ever since she’s had a standing reservation at this table once a week. This is the first time she’s ever brought someone though.” Phasma bends down to say the last part, as if whispering a secret, but doesn’t pitch her voice low enough that the words don’t carry. When she looks at Hux her face is flushed red, as if she’s had too much to drink, but she’s had less than a glass.

Kylo sits up straighter in her seat, suddenly ashamed of her behaviour and emboldened with the knowledge, while Hux attempts to interrupt. “You don’t need to tell her that,” Hux tries to cut in, but Phasma only grins wickedly and pulls a chair out for herself.

“We were roommates in college. I have pictures,” she tells Kylo, not even pretending to keep her voice down.

“Really?”

“Don’t you need to get back to the kitchen?” Hux interjects.

“I think my underlings can handle french toast.”

“Phasma,” she growls out, and Phasma sighs and abandons the chair, mouthing ‘later’ to Kylo before knocking shoulders with a glaring Hux.

“This is your present,” she announces and takes a step before she pauses and turns back. “Your lipstick is a little smeared,” she tells them before walking off, stopping at all the tables who were pretending not to listen and offering them all free dessert for interrupting their dinner,

Kylo reaches up and touches a hand to her mouth and when she pulls it back it’s stained red, the exact same shade as Hux’s. Somehow the dim lighting had kept her from noticing the stain of red on Hux’s chin, where her lower lip would’ve folded down while she kissed Kylo.

Her desire had vanished when faced with a beautiful woman who Hux clearly had such a connection with, the heat of her blood and the pound of her cunt dissipating in the face of clear evidence that she really had just been lying to herself and was nothing more than a plaything to Hux, someone who was nothing special and could easily be replaced. But watching Hux snatch a napkin off the table to scrub her mouth clean with a flush on her cheeks brings that fiery ache between her legs right back.

“I’m sorry about that,” Hux says, checking her distorted reflection in a spoon and deeming it good enough before dipping the corner of the napkin in water and passing it to Kylo. “Phasma can be a bit much sometimes. Most of the time. All the time, really.”

“You’ve known each other a long time.”

Hux sighs. “Too long. I have my father but we’re not close. After my Aunt Rae passed, Phasma’s about the closest thing I really have to family.”

“Oh,” she replies simply, both warmed that Hux is talking to her about this and ashamed of her earlier reception to Phasma, of the cold way she acted toward her because she had misunderstood. “‘M sorry,” she blurts, and Hux blinks at her. “For how I acted. I should’ve, I thought-,” she trails off and looks down, fusses with the silverware by her plate.

“What did you think?” Hux asks gently, pushing the curtain of hair away from her face.

“I thought, I dunno,” she shakes her head, tries to find words to say that don’t reveal how pathetic she felt when faced with a beautiful woman she could never look as good as kissing Hux’s cheek and laughing with her. Thankfully Hux seems to understand anyway.

“Kylo,” she says, cupping her cheek and turning her to face her. “I’m sorry. I wanted you to meet Phasma because she’s important to me, but I didn’t think how it would look. There isn’t anyone else.” Hux swallows, and it’s startling and charming both to realize she’s nervous. “There hasn’t been anyone else for a long time.”

She can’t find anything to say to that so leans over and gives Hux a kiss, gentle and slow, their lips clinging when they pull back, uncaring that they both just cleaned lipstick off.

They don’t say much, content to just sit, and Kylo tilts to the side and rests her head on Hux’s shoulder, feeling pleasantly fuzzy from the wine. Hux slides her hand back under the hem of Kylo’s dress but her fingers stay tracing lazy circles on her knee, just firm enough not to be tickling but teasing enough that it makes her shiver.

“What did she mean present?”

“Mmm?” Hux hums a questioning noise, finger teasing the crease of her thigh, slipping under the rope and tugging it ever so slightly.

“Phasma. She said ‘this is your present.’ What for?” Hux’s wicked finger slides back and forth on the sensitive fold of skin, right where the rope has been riding all night, and she has to grab Hux’s arm to hold it still, unsure what she’ll do if Hux keeps going but knowing it’ll get them kicked out, friends with the owner of the restaurant or no.

Hux groans and buries her face in one of her hands. Kylo fails at not finding it adorable. “I should’ve known,” she grumbles into her hand. “This was a mistake.” Hux sighs and finally removes her hand from Kylo’s leg, nails dragging thin red lines down it that make her shiver. “It’s my birthday. That’s why my father insisted on driving down to take me out for breakfast this morning.”

“I had no idea! Hux, you should’ve said something. We could have done something special,” she says, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt for not doing something, the sensible voice in her head that sounds too much like Leia reminding her that she can barely afford more coffee grounds and has no idea how she’s going to scrape together the funds just to pay for this, let alone anything more special, anything like Hux really deserves. It doesn’t matter, she’ll figure it out somehow. Maybe if she swallows her pride and begs Han will send her some money.

“Kylo,” Hux soothes, hand brushing down her arm. “What could I possibly want more than to spend an evening sharing dinner with a beautiful, charming young woman?” Hux leans close, lips brushing her ear, the scent of perfume overwhelming. “And I hope I get to unwrap my present after,” she whispers, fingers once again finding the knot of rope beneath her clinging dress and tugging it.

Kylo bites her knuckles to keep her moan in.

Whatever sweet torturous words Hux is planning to whisper in her ear next are dropped when their waiter returns. Hux smiles at him and shifts their wine glasses around helpfully so he can set the laden plates down while Kylo folds hands she didn’t realize were trembling until she tried to take a sip of water in her lap.

The plate set in front of her is laden with thick cut slices of bread browned to a perfect golden crust, great pillowy dollops of homemade whipped cream sitting on top and lush, red strawberries tucked into the cream, the entire confection drizzled with a deep wine colored sauce that a quick taste tells her is also strawberries.

“Phasma must like you,” Hux tells her, reaching across to pick up a bright, fleshy strawberry and hold it up to Kylo’s mouth. She takes a bite, teeth sinking into the soft fruit and flavor exploding on her tongue, lips sticky with juice from the one bite. “Good?” Hux asks, and she nods as she chews. Hux feeds her the rest of the strawberry, dragging it through the whipped cream before the next bite, green eyes trained on her mouth as Kylo tries to catch every sweet drop of flavor.

Hux neatly deposits the stem on the corner of the plate when Kylo’s made her way through the fruit and primly wipes her fingers clean on her napkin, bright red streaks staining the white cotton. Kylo picks up her silverware, eager to taste her first bite of the perfectly done french toast, when Hux pauses her with a finger to the back of the hand curled around her knife. “No,” she reprimands softly, and Kylo looks at her, hopelessly confused.

“No?” She repeats, tentative and quiet, unsure of what she’s done wrong.

“No,” Hux says again, and gently pries the silverware from her fingers. “Hands in your lap or flat on the table, Miss Ren. There’s a good girl,” Hux praises, as realization that Hux intends to feed her every bite makes her fingers go nerveless and the silverware slips from her hands.

“But-” she tries to protest, except Hux slips a bite of toast between her parted lips. The bread is perfectly warm, the crust pleasantly crispy and the rest chewy and rich, the balance of the bit of sweet cream clinging to it the perfect counter to the bread. “Lap or table, Miss Ren. I don’t care to repeat myself again.” Her hands are hovering uselessly, still holding a fork and knife that are no longer there so she drops them into her lap, half curled into loose fists, and tries to convince herself that it’s less obvious to others this way that Hux is feeding her than if she had left them flat on the table. As though anyone who glanced at them for more than a passing moment would be fooled. “Good girl,” Hux chuckles, and catches a fluff of cream on her fingertip and holds it up to Kylo to suck clean.

She doesn’t resist, even as her face flames, a crawling heat she can feel all the way down her neck, and wraps her tongue around Hux’s finger, sucks all the sweetness off and the lingering salt underneath.

Hux steadily works her way through the food piled on Kylo’s plate, slicing off bites of the toast and dipping strawberries in cream, every morsel eaten from Hux’s hand while Kylo curls her fingers in the hem of her dress, pulling wrinkles into the expensive fabric while she endures the slow, torturous pleasure of licking Hux’s fingers clean. Occasionally Hux leans over and steals a kiss, licking slow and deep into Kylo’s mouth, chasing the flavor of sugar and fruit, raising the wine glass to Kylo’s lips and tilting it so she takes deep swallows.

When nothing remains but a single strawberry Hux plucks it off the plate but instead of giving it to Kylo bites into it herself, white teeth piercing the tender flesh, and Kylo feels lightheaded as she watched Hux flick her tongue out to catch the juice clinging to her lower lip. She sways in her seat, pulled by overwhelming magnetic attraction, by the need to be close, close, closer, even though she’s just eaten an entire meal from Hux’s very hands.

Hux catches her and guides her head down to her shoulder, where she can close her eyes and breath in warm skin and perfume, nose tucked right against the slender column of her neck. She jerks when Hux’s hand taps against her leg, the pads of her fingers drawing swirling loops that trace ever higher, so very near her hot, aching cunt, knuckles just barely brushing the soaked folds of her labia and making her shiver. She’s been riding this razor’s edge of pleasure for so long she’s not even sure, stomach twisting with desire and muscles coiling tighter and tighter with want, breath stuttering every time it seems Hux will finally, finally, touch her only for her fingers to drift away and leave her hollowed out with want. She had thought it couldn’t get worse but Hux’s fingers slip through the wetness coating her legs and she watches with her pulse beating a deafening rhythm in her ears as Hux pulls her hand back and licks at the tip of a finger.

“Please,” she whimpers, and turns her face even farther against Hux’s shoulder. “Please, I need-”

“Shh,” Hux shushes her, stroking her wild curls, down the curve of her back, bumping over the knots beneath her dress. “I know what you need. Darling girl, you’ve been so good for me.” She sobs, quiet and muffled against Hux’s neck. Hux slips a kiss against her temple. “C’mon. My sweet girl, you’ve done so well for me. We can leave.”

Hux guides her up with a hand on her back, unsteady legs shaking and Kyly stumbles, knocks against the table and sends all the silverware rattling loudly in the quiet of the restaurant. “Your food,” she protests, looking at Hux’s untouched plate while she digs bills out of her wallet and tosses them on the table.

“Nevermind that,” Hux tells her, tucking her wallet back into her jacket pocket and pulling Kylo close with an arm around her waist.

Somehow they make it back out to the car without tripping, Hux holding her steady as they take each step with frustrating slowness. She wants to be alone with Hux, away from the disapproving eyes of the other patrons who she doesn’t look at but knows are staring at them regardless. Kylo collapses into the seat when Hux hands her off, fingers fumbling with her seatbelt before Hux takes it from her and secures her in with a laugh, leaning over her, and it’d be nothing to surge forward and steal a kiss but without Hux’s hands on her she feels no more capable of moving than a puppet without strings.

As Hux carefully steers the car she shuts her eyes, taking deep ragged breaths and trying to calm her wildly beating pulse. She chokes on air when Hux’s hand lands on her knee, tugging her thighs apart and the rope that has been riding so perfectly in the crease of her leg pulls and twists, pressing against her in a way that makes her lightheaded and dizzy.

Hux doesn’t say anything, just leaves her in a nebulous calm, never quite able to steady herself before she shifts or rocks and some part of her feels lit on fire again, blood singing with desire.

It takes her fuzzy thoughts a few long seconds to register where they are when Hux finally stops, the sound of the engine cutting off pulling her out of her daze, and she whimpers only because she can’t find the air to sob when she realizes they’re right outside her crummy apartment, chest aching with the realization that Hux is going to send her away with no relief.

Hasn’t she been good?

Her entire body is aching to come, muscles that have been bunched for hours with tension and her cunt feels bruised it’s so swollen and wet, throbbing with every resounding thud of her pulse. But more than that she doesn’t think she’d be able to come down, that even if she undid the ropes and soaked herself in a frigid shower she’d still be without Hux, left hanging without Hux’s words to bring her down and her sure hands to soothe her.

“No, please,” she begs, blindly reaching out to twist a greedy hand in Hux’s shirt and pull herself close, flinging herself as far across the center console as her seat belt will allow, desperate to keep Hux close. She’d do anything to keep Hux with her. “You can’t, you can’t just-” she chokes, words wavering and stuttering.

“Kylo, invite me in.” Hux’s words are soft but strong, just sharp enough to cut through her thoughts filled with the dark feeling of rejection.

“What?”

“Invite me in,” Hux reiterates, thumb touching the fragile skin right below her eye where it’s swollen and puffy from trying not to cry.

She sniffles and scrubs a hand over her face. “Would you,” she has to pause, swallow, and when she speaks again the words waver but not as badly. “Would you like to come up?”

“Yes,” Hux agrees, the word almost lost as she leans across to kiss her. She pulls back and Kylo chases her, makes a little whining sound she can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed about until Hux catches her with a hand to her shoulder and holds her back. “If you want me to, that is,” she tacks on, the sultry, teasing tone her voice has held all night gone.

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Kylo, shh, no. I need you to think about this. You’re very emotional right now, you almost started crying, hey, no,” Hux coaxes as she shifts away, ashamed, to tuck herself into the corner of her seat, trying to slip away from Hux’s grasp.

It’s not fair. It’s not as though she’s been able to help her reactions. She’s been pulled around all night, toyed with for Hux’s amusement, so what right does Hux have to judge her for being a little emotional?

“Fine,” Kylo mutters, fingers fumbling with her seatbelt, not sure if she’s embarrassed or angry but only knowing she wants out, wants away. She’s used to her extremes driving people away, but she had thought Hux, had dared to let herself hope, that Hux was different. She finally releases the seatbelt and scrambles for the door handle when Hux grabs her wrist. She jerks away from the hold and for a second Hux looks like she’s just been bitten by a dog who had been nothing but gentle before finally composing herself.

“Kylo, please.” It’s the please that stills her hands. She doesn’t let go of the handle but she does let Hux turn her back to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ve put you through a lot tonight. I wasn’t trying to insult you, I just want to make sure that whatever you agree to you’re agreeing to because you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. If you want me to come up I can. If you don’t want me to because you want to be alone that’s fine too. Or if you just want to sit here for a little while and see how you feel we can do that.”

“I want you to come up.” I always want to be with you, I never want to leave. She says it with no hesitation, maybe the first time all night her voice hasn’t wavered, and if it feels heavier than a simple invitation, like some grand truth that she’ll always carry with her, that’s alright, it doesn’t bother her.

“Alright,” Hux agrees with a smile, not questioning if Kylo’s sure, only taking her at her word.

Hux gets out first and steps around to help Kylo out. Although the moment of unsurety, of brief hurt, had calmed her nerves a little the touch of Hux’s hands, even if it’s only her cool hands in Kylo’s as she ducks down to assist, sparks that raging fire of want in her again and her legs feel unequipped to hold her.

They hesitate at the doorway to the complex before Hux nudges her forward. “I don’t know where we’re going,” she murmurs.

“Oh, right.” She shakes her head in an attempt to pull her ragged thoughts together, but it does little. “This, uh, this way,” she gestures vaguely to the stairs and starts up them carefully, clinging to the railing. She can practically feel Hux’s satisfied smirk, even though she’s two steps behind.

She stumbles on the second flight and has to catch herself against the railing, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath and Hux’s hand settles on her back. “Breathe in, two, three, out, two, three,” she coaches and the steadying soothe of her voice trips something in Kylo’s brain, some urge to obey, and she listens, stops taking the wheezing, gasping breaths she has been that aren’t really enough and instead takes slow, steady, deep breaths, feeling her ribs expand and press against the ropes, knots digging into the flesh of her stomach, but instead of sending her heart racing again like it has been with every previous step, neglected cunt wet and aching and every rub of the bindings between her thighs never quite enough to bring her off and leaving her teetering, her heartbeat slows from it’s frantic beat, her legs gain a bit more strength, and she can heave herself upright again, desire still pounding in her but it’s retreated enough that she can focus on the step before her.

“Almost there?”

“Third floor.”

“When you’re ready.” She nods once in determination, and Hux pats her back before they continue up the stairs.

It’s only when they reach her door and Kylo goes to grab her keys from her bag that she realizes she doesn’t have it, that it’s still sitting in Hux’s office, keys tucked inside. She blinks, and her vision blurs, blinks again and realizes there are tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she gasps out, fighting down a sob. What now? She can’t call the super to let her in, and the thought of making a trip back to the library makes her want to cry even more. As it is she’s barely holding in the tears. (A distant part of her thinks of what Hux said, that she’s overly emotional because of all she’s been through tonight, but knowing the reason only makes her angrier, frustration feeding into the hopelessness that’s overwhelmed her, because she knows she’s being unreasonable but can’t stop it.)

“These?” Hux asks, pulling a keyring from her pocket and holding it out in offering.

“How did you-” She wants to cry again, in relief this time, and the hiccuping laugh she can’t keep down is watery and distorted.

“I nicked them from your bag. Thought we might need them.” Hux shifts, crosses her arms in a nervous gesture that fascinates Kylo. She had thought Hux above things like being nervous, and even if she had imagined it she never would’ve guessed she’d be the one with the power to rattle Hux, let alone twice in one night. “I hope that’s alright, that I didn’t overstep.”

“I could kiss you,” Kylo blurts in gratitude at the sight of her keys, and then blushes.

“Unlock the door and I’ll let you,” Hux tells her, looking up from beneath her golden eyelashes, an overdone show of fictional deference that makes Kylo moan nonetheless.

They definitely need to get inside, and soon. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Ms. Katana next door sticks her head out to see what all the noise is about, but dying would be an option that’s pretty high on the list.

Her hands are shaking so badly Hux has to help her guide the key in, her long fingers twisting it in the lock, and Kylo stumbles in as the door opens, only catching herself on the door frame as Hux follows right behind her, jiggling the keys loose from the lock, shutting the door and turning the deadbolt with a resounding thud.

Kylo stares. She’s bitten down an invitation for Hux to come inside so many times before, swallowed the impulse when Hux drops her off because she’s always been too ashamed of her shoddy apartment, the space which was generously listed as a ‘studio’ when she found it. There’s the wall her desk is pushed up against, the counter that houses her microwave and coffee maker that she calls a kitchen, the door tucked off to the side that hides her tiny bathroom, and the one lonely window her bed sits against. It’s barely bigger than a dorm room, but it’s hers, and she refuses to let anyone make her feel bad about it, something she’s cleverly gotten around by refusing to show it to people.

That’s part of why she’s never invited Hux up. The other part is because she was never sure she’d come, and the possibility of rejection was too big to deal with. So she had let Hux drop her off, and tried to take as long as possible getting out of the car, and waved goodbye or stolen a final kiss, and ached when Hux drove away in a way she still isn’t quite ready to examine because she knows what she’ll find when she finally does.

But Hux isn’t here because she’s graciously accepted when Kylo asked, no, she’s here, standing in Kylo’s apartment, where no one but herself has been for the eight months since she moved in, because she asked.

It’s that thought that sends her stumbling forward, and she trips over her own feet, knees that have been threatening to give out all evening finally doing so, and she stumbles into Hux’s arms, knocking both of them against her door, hinges squeaking in protest against their mistreatment. “Sorry,” she tries to apologize, but Hux grabs handfuls of her dress and hauls her forward, kissing her deeply, stealing all the air from her. Kylo hadn’t realized the flavors of strawberries and cream had lingered until Hux had kissed them away.

“Strip, and get on the bed,” Hux orders, nudging her back before changing her mind and yanking her in for another quick kiss before finally pushing her back a step.

Kylo struggles to twist enough to reach the zipper in the back, fingers too clumsy to grasp it even when she finally reaches. Hux watches her, eyes bright and lively and pleased, before taking pity and stepping around her, touching her hands out of the way and tugging the zipper down painfully slowly, the noise loud in the quiet of the room, then guiding Kylo’s arms out, letting it slip to puddle on the ground.

Fingers traced down her spine, bumping over the ropes, before landing on the ones crossing her hips and using them to tug her backwards, back pressed tight against Hux. She shivers, and Hux ghosts a breath across her neck before nipping a sharp kiss to her shoulder. “Do you want the ropes off?”

“No.”

“Good.” Hux’s hand followed the ropes down, skipping over the soft flesh of her thigh. She glances down, sees the skin chafed red and raw where the ropes have been riding all night. “Did you like the ropes? Liked knowing my hands were always on you, even if I was across the room? Would you like to wear them all day for me? Go to bed with them on and wake up and go to class and the entire time know you’re wrapped up like this, just for me?” Her breath quickens, and she moans, low and loud.

What would it be like? Her skin would rub raw, but maybe over time callouses would form, patches of skin right where the ropes sit, a mark of Hux’s ownership rubbed into her very skin. “Please,” she begs, for the ropes, for touch, for the right to be Hux’s.

“On the bed, Miss Ren,” Hux instructs again, and this time she stays pressed tight, walking Kylo to the bed and only stepping away so she can collapse on it, stretched sideways on it, legs hanging off the end. She gasps, the ropes tugged taunt as she stretches out, the one hitched around her neck pulling tight, the ones between her legs digging in as her spine stretches out to just a little taller than the ropes comfortably allow for. “Feet on the bed.” Her muscles are jelly, refusing to obey, and Hux has to help her guide them up when all they want to do is collapse back down. “Hold your ankles.” She stretches, arms already aching from the awkward position, thighs stretched tight and back pulled into a bow. She whines, and the fingers of her right hand start to lose their grip, before Hux helps anchor her foot, gives her more time to grab it.

“I can’t,” she pants, tortured muscles already screaming from the position.

“You will,” Hux informs her. “If you let go I stop,” she threatens, falling to her knees. “I thought about tying you like this, but this is more fun.”

She screams when Hux finally licks her pussy, the first contact so startling her entire body seizes and she thinks she might come just from that, but she doesn’t, and Hux instead turns her attention to Kylo’s thighs, lapping up the wetness slicking them and biting deep rings into them, tugging at the fleshy give with her teeth and leaving sunburst flares of pain that quickly fade to dull throbs and just add the the hum of pleasure building in her.

“You’re so wet, Miss Ren. One would think you enjoy being trussed up like this,” she taunts, tongue following the swathe of rope up to her hipbone before sucking a bruise there.

“Please. I can’t-” she pleads, fingers slipping. Everything aches, all her muscles weakened and she gives a heaving sob as her fingers start to slip. She’s sobbing, tears on her face and her nose clogged, making her words watery and shrill. Her nipples are so peaked they hurt, the skin pulled so tight, and her clit’s so swollen if she could close her thighs she might be able to just flex them and bring herself off. But it wouldn’t be enough. Could never be enough.

“My good, sweet girl. You’ve been so good for me.” Hux stretches her arms, fingers brushing the buds of her nipples that she tries to arch into before falling to her sides and skimming down, tripping over knots and ropes before catching on Kylo’s own hands. She shows mercy and tightens her own fingers over Kylo’s, flexing her hold on her ankle, before bending back down. She breaths a teasing breath over her clit before gently coaxing her tongue between the folds of her labia, licking up the wet heat there before finally, finally wrapping her lips around the engorged nub of her clit, catching it between her lips and sucking, teeth gently grazing.

Kylo screams, and screams, voice gone hoarse as her muscles pull and flex, pressing against the confines of the ropes, body seizing tight before relaxing in one great rush, sagging boneless against the mattress. Hux lips at her clit until she squirms, making a noise of protest at the over sensitive touch. She’s far too drained to try to come again, entire body buzzing.

“You can let go now,” Hux tells her, releasing her own hold on Kylo’s ankles.

“Oh,” is all she manages to say, stiff fingers uncurling slowly and her legs slide off the bed. Hux chuckles, but doesn’t say anything.

Somehow they manage to shift up on the mattress and Hux spoons up behind her, pulls a blanket over them and wraps and arm around Kylo, her hand slipping beneath the rope the lays against her sternum. She’s exhausted, but too wired to sleep, eyes fluttering closed before popping open again. She wipes her face against her pillow, then wrinkles her nose in disgust at the mess before just dropping her head back down on it, too exhausted to stay grossed out.

“Alright?”

“Mmmm,” she hums in agreement, and feels Hux’s body shake with laughter.

Hux pulls away, and she starts to protest, but before she can Hux slides a book off of her bedside table and examines the cover. “The Modern History of Aviation in Warfare. Pretty esoteric. Is this for school or for pleasure?”

“Both,” Kylo mumbles. “Grad school? Thesis, maybe” she explains through a yawn. Hux laughs and presses a kiss to her shoulder. She rolls onto her back, and Kylo misses the warmth, but her voice fills the room as she opens to a random page and starts reading, the dry material combined with the soft cadence of Hux’s syllables finally letting her mind drift enough to sleep.

Kylo’s jostled away by a hand coaxing her to roll over. “Wha?” She asks blearily, blinking into the darkness.

“Lift up,” Hux tells her, and pats her hip. She arches, and some of the ropes unwind.

“I thought you were going to leave them on.”

“You really want that?” Hux sounds surprised, and when Kylo nods she kisses her. “Some other time. Right now I need to take these off. Sit up.” She obeys, pushing herself up while swaying sleepily as Hux quickly undoes all the knots. She breathes deep, already missing the feel of them. “Go back to sleep,” Hux tells her when the last knot has been unhitched and there’s a coil of red rope sitting on her night stand. “I’ll pick you up in the morning so you can get your bag before class, alright?”

“You could stay,” she offers, catching Hux’s wrist after fumbling in the low light.

“I would, really, I would, but I have to go check on my cat. 7?”

Kylo yawns, drops her head back to her pillow. “Alright.”

“Good night, Kylo. See you in the morning.”

“G’night,” she says around another yawn. She hears the door close shut, the turn of the key in the lock, listens to the click of Hux’s heels down the hallway. She doesn’t know if she listens until Hux is too far away or if she falls asleep first, head buried in a pillow that smells faintly of Hux’s perfume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with it! Hopefully it won't take me six months to write the next chapter.
> 
> If you enjoyed this I'd really appreciate a comment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far with me. I'm hoping to have an update every two to three weeks. If you enjoyed it please consider leaving a comment or a kudos! Or come say hi at my Tumblr
> 
> https://cut-off-the-grain.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you!


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